


Ghost Stories: Halloween Edition

by Archangel0Lucifer



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: AU, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blow Job, Character Death, Cunnilingus, Demon Sex, Demons, Established Relationship, Female Reader, First Time, Ghost Sex, Ghost Stories, Ghosts, Halloween, Human/Vampire Relationship, Masturbation, Mentions of Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Secrets, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Smut, Spooky, Stand Alone, Undead, Vaginal Sex, Vampire Sex, Vampires, Violence, Werewolves, ghost au, new relationships, satanic themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 62,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27293287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel0Lucifer/pseuds/Archangel0Lucifer
Summary: A little spooky and very sexy. Each chapter focuses on an individual tale about each of the Papas/Copia and their relationship with YOU, the reader.They are grouped together in a theme that focuses on the Halloween holiday. They are not intended to be read in any order, as each one stands on its own. They stray from canon lore, to fit each theme. Individual scenes, set the mood for a Halloween fright and some sexy imagery.These tales imagine each one of the 4 frontmen as a creature of supernatural origin: a Ghost (set in 2018), a Werewolf (set in 1830), a Demon (set in 2015) & a Vampire (set in 1970)Warnings are as follows:These stories contain sexually explicit content.Masturbation, Oral & Penetrative will be described.There will be instances of soft sex as well as rougher sex.None of these stories include or imply a lack of consent. Every character fully consents to the actions of the story.There are mentions of blood, mild violence (non-sexual), strong language and monster/horror themes.There is mention of death.I hope that you enjoy them, but I ask, please read with caution and of your own free will.
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Reader, Papa Emeritus I/Reader, Papa Emeritus II/Reader, Papa Emeritus III/Reader
Comments: 22
Kudos: 42





	1. Sister Pumpkin and Her Ghost Papa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Features Papa Emeritus I, set Halloween 2018

The Emeritus brothers are dead.

For weeks, months even, you have mourned the loss of three of the most dedicated leaders this church had ever seen. Gone too soon and without a tangible reason, things have been very different since their untimely passing. As a dedicated sister of sin, you have mourned them all. Yes, you've mourned all the former papas, but none more than your beloved Primo. It was he who had your heart, your soul, your body. It was he whom you missed the most of all. You often wondered if he missed you the same.

The hour is late on the eve of Halloween.

Outside, the rain is falling in droves, pelting heavily against the old tiled roof of the abbey and the stone-laid paths that surround it. The sound alone is loud enough to consume your senses. You can’t recall a rain as heavy as this, not in a long long time. Thunder rolls in the distance and you are suddenly reminded how he used to hold you on nights like this. He isn’t around to hold you any longer.

You never feared the rain, in fact, a gentle rain was always your favorite, but you always had a slight worry when it came to the storms that came with the rains this time of year. Another low rumble in the distance echoes throughout your personal chambers. It is louder than before but you know that the storm is still miles to the west. In the moments it draws near, you miss the loving embrace of his arms and the whispered words of love and protection. You missed how comforted he made you feel.

From your place, standing between the small bathroom and your bedroom, you can see the flashes of light coming in from the windows, bursts of bright lightening that stretch and crackle across the sky. More thunder can be heard, getting louder as the system moves closer, and you shiver involuntarily. You are aware that you are safe inside these walls; the strong construction of the church and abbey have stood for centuries, unscathed by the wicked storms that blow through year after year. No rain, snow nor wind has ever harmed these unholy walls. No doubt the strong walls are doubly protected by the powers of Satan below. Another flash of light is followed with a loud clap of thunder and you definitely miss the loving embrace of your beloved.

"Papa." You whisper.

It isn't the first time you've called his name into an empty room.

Barefoot, you pad across the plush carpet that lines your floor. You are fresh from the shower and are wrapped up in a cushy towel. It is your favorite, that feels nice pressed to your warm skin and covers your body just right. You stop in front of the dresser and look at yourself in the attached mirror. You gaze, in the dim lamplight, looking at your face. The shower helped you to feel better and you no longer look as if you’ve been crying. You smile, though sadly, and feel a swell of pride. You’ve made it through another day.

The hour is drawing closer to midnight and you know that your friends and colleagues are taking their seats in the chapel for a dark mass to celebrate one of the highlights of the year, Devil’s Night. Halloween.

Normally you would be there with them, but you decided to skip out this year. This was a day that held such important memories and ties to faith that you shared with your beloved Papa. It wouldn't be the same without him there beside you. You made your choice to skip this year, while the sadness was still fresh in heart and mind.

Missing an important mass would not be something that your beloved would ever encourage but you know that he would understand. He would know that Halloween was a time of year that means so much to you both. He would certainly forgive you for taking a step back.

This year, you have your own ideas on how to honor the day, honor his memory and offer praise to the master Satan below in Hell. Yes, this year you will be celebrating alone. There are other ways beyond a dark mass to celebrate the one day of the year where the lines between Hell and Earth are at their weakest.

A low rumble of thunder precedes a bolt of lightening that you catch through the reflection in the window. A loud cracking sound is released as the bolt strikes the top most spire of the church, right next door to the abbey. It’s enough to shake both buildings and it scares you enough you shout out.

The lights flicker before going out, and suddenly you are bathed in darkness.

Reaching across the top of your dresser, you are seeking a box of matches you know is there. Continued flashes of lightening offer you some moments free of total darkness but it isn’t enough for you to see well at all. Your hand closes around the small wooden box and you lift it.

A sudden chill is felt, jolting right up your spine. A shock of cold seeps inside you, down to the core. You get the sense that your room is drained of all warmth. It's an eerie sensation, enough to make you feel uncomfortable. It’s gone in a flash. The cold fades away. You find it odd but it doesn’t stop you from what you plan to do.

You hold the matchbox in one hand and unsecure the towel with the other. The soft material swooshes to the floor with a gentle breeze against your legs. You feel around to find the black candle you know is set upon your dresser. Your hand brushes across the top once more and your fingers crawl around until you feel the metal holder. You drag it closer to you. Another flash of light let's you see the black taper and its wick.

Taking a match from the box, you strike it and a burst of yellow flame creates a warm glow around you. The church bells ring out. It is midnight, the first moments of Halloween have begun. You light the black candle and close your eyes, offering a prayer to Satan.

Another chill is felt, a to-the-bone cold wraps you in an icy embrace and your eyes fly open. You hear a creaking sound behind you but the empty reflection in the mirror betrays your senses. You are certain that you aren’t alone but you see nothing to confirm your certainty.

“Hello?” You say, just having to be sure.

You don't know what frightens you more, the continued silence or the chance of a reply.

Silence is your answer and it leaves you relieved. The room is so very quiet, even the rolling thunder outside seems to have stopped.

A sensation like the soft brush of fingers runs across your bare shoulders and you feel your skin prickle with goosebumps. The hairs on your arms stick up, you feel a tingle at the base of your neck.

“Who's there?” You ask, voice shaking in something like fear.

The candle on the dresser top goes out, leaving you in complete darkness once more. The chilling sensation returns and your heart starts to beat faster, thumping the inside of your ribcage.

“Who is there?” You ask again, and you are definitely afraid now.

Another creak of the floorboards with nothing to show as a cause and you're beginning to tremble. Your hands are shaking and you turn yourself around, your back to the dresser and the mirror on top. You look around but can’t see much because it is so dark.

You have the sense that you’re not alone. You aren’t quite sure how that makes you feel. There have been whispers of the ancient halls you call home being haunted, but not experiencing anything to prove that to you, leaves you open minded but skeptical.

“I must be overtired.” You say to yourself and it calms your nerves for the moment.

After a moment of just standing there you turn back to the dresser and relight the candle. It is time for a personal ritual, one that will not only honor Satan on this Halloween night, but one that will relax you enough to find the sleep you need.

You walk over to your bed, one that you neatly make every morning. You turn down the covers and rearrange some of your pillows. Sitting just below your favorite pillow is a stuffed bear, a gift from your beloved.

In the beginning, not long after he was taken from you, you kept that bear tucked away in the closet. It brought back too many memories, but after a while, you often slept with it beside you as a piece of comfort.

You pick up the stuffed bear and hug it close to you. Your senses are flooded with the memory of the night Papa gave it to you. You hold it in your arms and find yourself swaying side to side, imagining that he is there with you.

“Papa.” You whisper again and press a kiss to the bear’s head.

"I miss you, my beloved Papa."

You set the bear down on the night table and climb into bed. You keep the covers folded down, laying on top and settling into the soft mattress. You adjust the pillows once more, wanting optimal comfort for the coming act of personal ritual.

Flat on your back, you let your hands rest neatly clasped and folded against your belly. You close your eyes and just let yourself breathe. In and out, in and out. You start to relax.

You think about what it was like having your Papa laying in bed beside you. You think of the strong, tight hold he would provide, despite his frail looking body. You can clearly imagine the warmth of his body, pressed to yours and the delicate touch of his hand as it caressed your skin. You begin to feel the pleasure rise in you, as you recall the way he made you feel.

You turn onto your side, facing away from the dresser and the flickering candle on top. You open your eyes to see shadows dance on the walls, a direct result of the flame behind you. Once more, your eyes slip closed.

You imagine the soft kisses your Papa would press to your back and you shiver, so sure that you feel his lips moving along your back, shoulder to shoulder. You slowly run your own hand down your side, creating the illusion that it's him who touches your skin. A quiet gasp slips from your lips at the tickling touch.

"Papa." You whisper, as your hand curves over your hip and down to your leg.

You can feel your body warm against the chill of the room.

Once more, you roll onto your back, sinking into the soft mattress and feeling comfortable. You keep your eyes closed and try to imagine what your Papa would do next.

You slowly trace your fingers up from the center of your thigh, pressing gently into your skin as you move your arm up. Your other arm moves in a similar way, trailing up the opposite side of your torso. You shiver involuntarily and the warmth from inside begins to spread.

"Ah!" You gasp, as the thumb and index finger of your right hand gently squeezes a nipple.

The delicate pinch sends a jolt of pleasure that settles in between your legs.

You spend the next few minutes teasing yourself, rolling and pinching your nipples. They are extra sensitive and you know from experience that Papa loved to work you up playing with them. You give the left a sharp pinch and your hips buck off the bed into nothing.

"I do this for you, Unholy Satan." You whisper, continuing to toy with your left breast, squeezing the flesh and grazing across the nipple.

Your other hand shifts down, petting over your skin as it makes its way down to settle between your legs.

"I do this in your memory, Papa."

You continue your slow exploration of your body, knowing it so well but always reminded of what places you touch will draw a moan, a smile, a gasp.

There are moments when you prefer the aid of a toy or some mood music, but tonight it's all you and it is shaping up to be perfect. You take your time, letting your pleasures build and your mind wander.

Lost in your thoughts, you hardly notice that the room once again grows icy cold. The storm picks back up outside and the rumble of thunder begins to match the rumbling sensation you feel spreading within you.

As your one hand reaches its destination, you barely graze the slit between your legs. Your touch is light, teasing, just the way you like it at the start. You add a bit of pressure, slipping two fingers between your lower lips and you feel just how wet you are. You continue to pleasure yourself and work your fingers around. You barely graze your clit, not yet ready to work it towards your end. You want this to last, the night is yours and you feel no need to rush. Another pass of your damp fingers across your bundle of nerves has you shivering and involuntarily thrusting your hips up from the mattress below you.

You tightly close your eyes, forcing the image of your lost lover to flood your mind. It’s just perfect, how you remember him so vividly. It's easy to picture him and his kind face. It's easier to remember the lust in his eyes the times you would make love, in his bed or your own. It never mattered to you where, so long as it was him there with you.

Eventually, your fingers pick up speed, rubbing wide circles around your clit. You moan, turning your face towards the pillow. It drowns out the sounds you make, but truly there is no reason for it.

"Oh fuck." You groan into the soft cotton covering of the pillow.

You narrow the focus, working your fingers in a tighter circle, really getting into it.

A loud cracking sound of thunder rattles the abbey and stops you from your self pleasuring. You have no doubt that lightening has struck overhead causing the building to shake.

Somewhere beyond the space of your bed, the floorboards creak and a quiet gasp slips out your mouth and your eyes fly open.

You are overcome once again with the suspicious feeling that you aren’t alone in your room. You don't feel frightened. You feel no embarrassment or shame for your nakedness nor for what you do. This is a well practiced ritual, bringing yourself to orgasm in the name of Satan.

"Hello?" You call, propping up against one arm.

Your other stays low, resting between your legs but your fingers stop their gentle pets against your heated center. You feel yourself throb, but make no immediate attempt to keep going.

"Do not stop yourself for the sake of me, little Pumpkin." A soft voice says from the shadows.

You know that voice and only one person has ever called you Pumpkin.

"Papa?" You say, using both arms to push you into a more upright position in the bed.

You see, just to the corner of the bed, but several steps away, your beloved Primo. It's undeniable that it's him, but something seems off.

Dressed as if ready for a ritual, robes and slightly sloppy paint on his face. He was never talented with the painted face, not like his brother’s had been.

He is there, you are sure, but something's not quite right. You can see him just as much as you can see through him. You don't know what to believe, your own mind questioning itself. You don't deny the existence of ghosts. You feel in your heart that you've just seen your first one.

"You have nothing to fear, my beloved." He says and moves closer to where you are on the bed.

His steps make no sound and you feel as if he glides more than walks toward you.

"But you died." You say and the prickle of fear begins to sink in.

"That is true." He says sadly, tilting his head slightly and you can see a fondness in his eyes.

"But for tonight, my little Pumpkin, I have returned."

You don't know whether to laugh or cry. You do a little of both. You make no move to cover yourself but you shift around to sit in a more modest way.

You don't know if this is truly happening or if your mind has taken a turn for the worse; grief can cause a hint of madness when left unchecked. You didn’t think this was the case with you.

"It is really you?" You whisper, reaching to wipe away some of your tears.

"You came back to me." Your words are wrapped up in a sob.

You feel your heart ache, thinking that you would never get the chance to see him again yet here he is.

"There is no one else I'd rather be with." He says and at once, your tears are unstoppable.

The mattress creaks and sinks slightly as the ghost of your former lover sits down. For someone that looks very much like an apparition, you are surprised to see that his presence in the room is very real. There is matter to his form, dimension and weight. He is there with you and you wonder if maybe you could touch him.

"You came back to me." You say, repeating what you'd said a moment earlier.

Nothing else comes to mind, even as there were hundreds of things you wished you could say to him in the time since his passing.

You reach out, thinking that maybe you should try, so desperate to hold him again.

"Did you doubt that your Papa would return to you on our Devil’s Night? Did you think you'd spend this Halloween alone, my sweet and darling Pumpkin?" He says and he is reaching out for you.

Your hands touch and you know then that this is real. You can feel his touch and you hold on. His grasp is solid, but you feel a fuzzy tingle in your arm. It's not unlike what would happen if you touched the front of an old fashioned television tuned to static.

You cry over him, but for the first time since he was taken from you, your tears are not of sadness but joy. He is here with you.

"How long?" You ask, lacing your fingers through his but not shifting any closer.

"We have the night." He says and there is a sadness in his voice.

The sadness reaches his eyes.

"But I am with you, always, my little Pumpkin."

His fingers close more firmly around yours. The tingling sensation increases. His other hand presses over your heart with a hopeful smile on his narrow lips.

Nothing can stop you from crawling towards him, falling into his arms.

He looks so unearthly, almost transparent, but he is real and he's capable of holding you up. His arms close tightly around you, and the silky feel of his papal robes caress your naked skin. He holds you, just as he always had. The storm outside is once more forgotten.

"I've missed you." You whisper, burying your face in the curve of his neck.

He even smells the same as you remember.

"I have missed you." He says, stroking over your back.

It's very soothing and you find yourself relaxing against him.

"What is Hell like?" You ask, slowly sitting back but keeping yourself in his arms.

You look at his face and you know that you hadn’t forgotten his look. You hoped you never would.

"I cannot tell you." He replies.

"But when your time comes, you will know."

You can feel the gentle touch of his hand at the back of your neck, the rub of his thumb along your hairline. You shiver.

You understand why he does not answer your question but you remain curious. Your question is easily brushed aside from your mind, happy to just be in his arms. You know that you'd rather spend your night together in ways beyond asking questions. You only have one and it's on the tip of your tongue.

"Will you bring us to orgasm for Satan, Papa?" You say, distancing yourself from him for just a moment.

You don’t, for one minute, think that abandoning your plans to cum in the name of Satan is something that should happen. If anything, you think it might be better, now that you have your Papa. 

"I'd feel honored, my little Pumpkin." He says, and pulls you back into his arms.

You feel him plant a little kiss to your cheek and it makes you smile, the biggest smile you have mustered in the longest time.

When he kisses you, it's all static and electricity. A side effect of his ghostly state no doubt, but it always felt electric to you. No one ever kissed you like your Papa did and you believed that no one ever could again.

It starts slow and steady, you two never rushed these things. His lips move with yours, before you feel the gentle nudge of his tongue at your bottom lip. Easily, you let your mouth fall open for him and the kiss deepens. His hands come to rest at your sides and the pleasant shocks radiate from his touch to every nerve in your body.

Papa guides you down to the mattress and lays you flat on your back. He never once breaks the kiss and you feel his tongue glide across yours as he settles down on top of you.

You wrap him up in your arm first, keeping him close. One by one, you lift your legs to sit around his hips. The satin feel of his robes feels nice, tickling your thighs and belly. The press of his hips against yours reignites the aroused state you'd abandoned upon his arrival to your bedroom.

"What does my little Pumpkin want to do first?" Papa asks, letting his kisses trail down the side of your face, over your jaw until he is gently nibbling your neck.

"Anything." You whisper, trying not to grind against him.

"Everything." You sigh, as he sucks a small hickey in the hollow above your collarbone.

"So needy, my little Pumpkin." He says, mouthing along your chest but not yet paying attention to your breasts.

"Don't you ever change that about yourself."

"I'm always so needy when it comes to you, Papa, you know this." You say, his title catching in your throat as he closes his lips around one of your nipples.

He hums in acknowledgement of your words.

"Yes." You hiss, as his tongue laps the nub before he bites down.

It barely hurts, a pleasurable feeling, and you can’t help but rock your hips up into his.

The front of his robes against your heated center makes you shiver and moan. You find his cock, rubbing against it beneath the robes. He is mostly hard and the feeling thrills you. You keep up with the gentle rocking as Papa turns his attention to your other breast. Your moans break the otherwise silent room. He sucks and nibbles at the raised nipple, giving it the love and care he gave the other.

His own moaning mixes with yours; he sounds just as needy as you. You wish to ask for more but don't want to rush. If this is for the night only, you want to appreciate it and take your time. His lips move back to yours and he kisses you with passion and fervor.

His one hand moves up your neck, cupping your cheek. It allows him to tilt your face towards his and deepen his kiss. You shudder and your hips roll as his other hand moves south. His fingers press into the soft skin of your hips, trailing back to get a firm grip on your ass. He squeezes but it's gentle. You moan your appreciation into his mouth. He moans back, equally satisfied with the kiss.

With one hand, you grip his robes, holding him to you. You don't want to ever let go. It gives you just the balance and leverage you need to rock against him with more control. You grind against his covered cock, hoping that soon you'll feel it without the layers. Your other arm moves to sit behind his neck, turned up to hold the back of his head as you two kiss. With your fingers splayed, you push him impossibly closer. There is no definition between where he ends and you begin. It's just what you want.

"Yes, Papa, yes." You whisper, head falling back, breaking the kiss you shared.

His hand moved from its grip on your ass, the other moved from your face, until he's holding you by the hips. His grip is soft, but firm enough that you stop your rocking. You miss the motion but accept that he's still close. You feel his cock throbbing between your legs as his lips are on your neck, working their way down and you know just what he plans.

His lips move on from your neck, kissing lower over your chest. He kisses between your breasts, not stopping to pay them any attention. As his lips trail down, his body shifts too, dragging the soft material over you. You shudder and sigh, enjoying the sensation.

"My sweet Pumpkin." Papa whispers, lips moving along the innermost portion of your thigh.

He leaves behind kisses and licks, alternating between each side, left then right.

"Tell your Papa just what you want from me." He says, breathing heavily against your sex, but not yet making the connection you need.

"Your mouth, Papa." You say, spreading your legs wider as he lifts your lower half from the bed.

His hands cradle your hips and you feel the moment he buries his face further between your legs.

"Oh n'yes." You cry, as you feel the heat of his tongue, lapping at your slit.

It’s just perfect, exquisite, fantastic. You feel your muscles clench and your body shiver. He doesn’t yet let his tongue slip in, content to tease and that's okay. The warm, wet heat of his tongue pairs well with those static shocks that are new to his ghostly form. It's not something that bothers you, in fact, you find you like the odd sensation quite a bit. It doesn't pull from the pleasure you know is coming. You know just what talent he possesses when it comes to oral stimulation.

He kisses your lower lips, then presses one to the soft mound above them. It’s just enough to make you shiver and groan some more. He nuzzles the place your leg joins with your body, once on the right and again to the left. He gives one final tease, licking along your slit, up from your taint to its starting point.

"Please, don't tease." You murmur, touching your own hand to your face.

You don't want to silence your cries, but out of habit, you bite gently on the side of your thumb.

Your other hand rests on the back of his neck, holding on but giving no pressure or push.

The first lick deep enough to part your folds grazes your clit and you whimper, biting harder on your thumb. Papa is slow and steady with his actions, working your core with his skillful tongue. It's just as you recall, but better, and it blows any imagined scenario that you might draw up on a solo endeavor.

It's quite obvious that he too is enjoying the moment. His low and hungry moans send delicious vibrations through you.

He alternates between broad licks over your labia and focused laps at your clit until you feel the tension build and the wave begin to crest. Your legs start to shake and there is a tightly wound coil in your belly. You're so close already and you wonder if he’s going to let you cum, or pull back to tease.

"Papa." You groan, through gritted teeth as the fingers of one hand join his busy lips and tongue.

He doesn’t tease, slipping two digits inside you, curling them fast and with just the right amount of pressure.

His other hand keeps you from falling back to the bed. He is stronger than he looks and that has always been the case.

Papa works his fingers inside you, showing no signs of stopping. His lips circle around your bundle of nerves and he sucks your clit. His moans continue and you swear that he whispers your name.

It's enough to break you.

Your body tenses and your hips buck against his face as your climax washes over you. It's intense but not surprising. You felt it building the moment he went down. You have never missed out on such pleasure when oral sex was involved.

He works you through, just to the point of over stimulation. He pulls his mouth from your sex and slides his fingers from your core. Gently, he lowers you back down against the bed and he lays beside you as you come down.

"So beautiful when you cum, my little Pumpkin." He says softly and you feel his hand at your cheek.

You turn your face into him, nuzzling his wrist.

"Yes, Papa." You say, slightly breathless and a little incoherent.

You hear him chuckle quietly and feel him stretch out, pulling you closer and into his arms.

For an unknown period of time, you just lay there. You feel happy, content, so very blessed by Satan to have this opportunity to be with your beloved again. You cannot imagine that very many people have this kind of chance. You wonder why you have.

You snuggle up, burying your face against his chest. His arms squeeze you tighter and you feel perfect. You are tempted to think more about how something like this is even possible but you decide not to waste any time. You can feel Papa is still very much hard, his cock pressed to your hip through his robes.

You're ready for round two and the chance to bring him his release, knowing that he deserves it just as you. Your hope is that you'll cum together, though you have much gratitude for his letting you cum first on your own. Your beloved Primo has always been a giving lover.

You say nothing as you sit up, giving your body a nice long stretch. You can't take your eyes off him, still so very happy to have him in your bed once again.

In continued silence, you keep your eyes locked on his as you push against his shoulder until he is flat on his back. You take a moment, deciding if you want to strip him of his robes, or just push them aside to get at what you want.

Both options are tempting.

Your decision is made, based only on the fact that he is already laying down and pushing his robes up will be faster.

Papa watches you, with his typical fondness and a flickering desire in his two-toned eyes. It is a look you know well and you sense his excitement to proceed.

You smile in a way that has him returning the action and you creep a little closer. You think, despite the need for this to progress, you have it in you to give a little tease.

"As nice as it is for me, my Papa, I must assume that it's probable you're just as excited to see me again, no?" You say.

Your words are spoken as thick and sweet as honey.

You reach out, grasping his cock through the robes. You hold on but do not yet stroke. Your eyes drop low, looking just where you hold on. A smile crosses your lips and you give him a squeeze. Your eyes go back up to meet his.

"Yes, yes you seem very excited indeed." You whisper.

Papa sighs heavily. It is a sound of satisfaction and not of impatience. He'll play your teasing game and you know that he'll enjoy it.

"My sweet Pumpkin, of course I am excited to see you." He says, closing his fist around your wrist and guiding you into a slow jerking motion over his prominent erection.

You do nothing to stop him, because you were about to stroke him anyway.

"I give you the choice, my love." You say, using your other hand to palm the head of his cock.

You feel a damp patch on the robes, knowing then how much he's leaking in anticipation for you. It tickles your pride and boosts your mood. You pull back, taking his free hand in yours.

"Do you want my mouth?" You ask, playfully poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue.

"Or this?" You say, dragging his hand between your legs and slowly running his fingers through your slick folds.

"Let me inside you, my little Pumpkin." He says, taking the lead and stroking you without further prompt.

"Yes Papa." You say and instantly release the hold you have around his cock.

You shiver involuntarily as nimble fingers find your clit and work it slowly.

"I want this too." You sigh, breathlessly.

It takes a moment, too taken by the good touch of his fingers, but you eventually push his hand away. You look into his eyes as you shift down the bed, slinging one leg over both of his to leave you straddling his shins.

You hold eye contact, and slowly push his robes up. You are pleasantly surprised to find that underneath he only wears a pair of underwear, and not any suit as you might expect. His underwear fits snug, tented by his leaking cock. You can’t help but dip down to press a kiss to the head. Your senses are flooded by the familiar scent of his desires and your lips can taste the salt of his pre-cum. You hum against the tip before kissing it again.

"These are in my way, Papa." You say with a playful smile.

You slide your fingers down the waistband and pull the underwear down and away. He shifts himself around, helping you the best he can to remove the cloth. You drop them beside you and spend a moment running your fingers along his shaft. It's soft and smooth to the touch but he's rock hard and you can’t wait to feel it inside you.

"Ah, yes." Papa gasps when you kiss his tip once more.

His scent is stronger now and his taste more potent than it was whilst still covered. You are not opposed to pleasing him orally at first, but your shared desire for penetration has you being brief with your little kisses. You swipe your tongue across his tip before you start to kiss up his body, pushing the robes further up as you head toward his face.

The robes are scrunched and wrinkled, exposing his belly and chest to you.

A few sporadic kisses is all he gets before your desire to feel his lips on your own. You kiss him hard, parting his lips with your tongue. He is ready and reciprocates willingly, moving his tongue in languid circles around your own. You feel his cock at your belly, smearing his pre-release across your skin.

The kiss begins to lose focus, both of you so incredibly turned on. You nip at his tongue as his hands grip your hips. He rolls onto his side, taking you with him. You grasp at his back, half your fingers feeling bare skin, the other half feeling his robes. Once more, you roll together and Papa has you flat on your back.

Your legs spread wide, giving him more than adequate space to settle between them. His cock twitches and throbs against your heated sex. A shift of your hips is all it will take to feel him slip inside. His hands cup your cheeks, holding your face to his. He gazes into his eyes and you can see the love and care he has for you. It's the love and care you've always come to expect from him.

"Please, Papa." You whisper into his mouth before you nibble his bottom lip.

One hand leaves your face and you feel it down between you. He is careful but moves quickly, slipping his cock into you. You moan and squeeze your muscles around him. You've always believed this coupling was a perfect fit. Your actions pull a moan from your Papa and he sinks to the hilt before slowly drawing back.

There is no delay, no moment of teasing. The way your Papa fucks is with purpose. He starts slow, building a nice pace, a sure level of pressure with each thrust of his hips. You lay back, content to let him have the control. He's never before failed you. He knows what you want, what you like and need. He takes hold of your legs, keeping them open and wide as he works his hips.

"Papa." You whisper, trying to look into his eyes but you find his eyes are closed.

When you know that he's found his rhythm, a steady pace, you begin to move with him. You grind against his cock, clenching muscles each time he slides deep.

You whisper his name again and he opens his eyes. Your lips part as a low groan of pure pleasure ripples through you. The two of you are locked in an unyielding gaze.

His hands shift further up your legs, fingers pressing into the meat of your thighs. He guides them up and you bend with ease. His pace increases and it leaves you shaking with each powerful thrust. His robes fall down, tickling what parts they touch and their silky feel adds to your pleasure.

"Oh, my love." He says, pressing kisses against your calf.

"You feel so good, so soft and warm around your Papa." He says, gently nibbling the place he just kissed.

"Yes." You say, it's all you can manage.

You rest the backs of your legs against him, slightly changing your position. He keeps one hand grasped firmly at your leg, the other he brings to where your bodies join.

"Oh yes." You cry as he works your clit, still sensitive from your previous climax.

It touches on too much, but damn it all if you were to ask him to stop.

Your pleasure builds, you pray to Satan he's not far behind. You start shaking and his hips work harder, fighting to keep up. You're grasping his arms, clinging to him so tightly you think he'd bruise had he not been a mere specter.

"Papa." You whine, feeling a tightness somewhere between your belly and lower back.

Your legs slip down, still splayed wide open as he thrusts with body shaking intensity. You're on the brink of your second orgasm and you cry out loud, sound without words.

"My love." Papa says.

His voice catches and he is shaking. You know he is close.

"I'm going to cum." You say, knowing just then that you can't hold back.

"Cum in the name of Satan, my little one." Papa says, tensing for a moment.

He's about to cum as well.

Your body goes rigid just like his. You cum together, as one, for each other and Satan of course. Papa spills his release and continues to thrust until you beg him to stop. It feels so good. Too good. Too much.

You feel him slip out and your body goes lax. You feel boneless. You are feeling very much elated, satisfied but your body is pushed beyond overwhelming stimulation. You shiver, an aftershock of pleasure. Your eyes are closed and you feel like you're melting into the mattress. You're sensitive and twitchy but it’s pleasant to experience. Your mind feels like it's turning to mush but you are aware of your Papa laying down beside you. You can’t yet move, but you let him cuddle you into his arms. You feel sleepy but try to fight it. You don't want to miss a moment with your beloved.

"Rest, my darling Pumpkin." Papa whispers, and you feel him kiss your temple.

"I love you."

"Papa." You whisper, with a satisfied smile stretching across your lips.

You succumb to the sleepy pull, so happy in his arms.

  
  
  


The following morning, you wake up to an empty bed. You are still naked, but comfortably tucked under the covers. Two pillows prop up your head and your little teddy bear is nestled in the crook of your arm.

An oncoming sadness falls over you but it's different than the one you've felt for months previous.

The sun is shining in through the window, a sure sign the storm from the night before had ended.

You sigh, holding back your tears. You don't want to cry for him anymore. Not like you used to. You believe now, that he's happy, having lived a devoted life worshipping the Master, you know he's held in high regards down in Hell.

"A dream." You whispered, sitting up and letting the comforter pool at your hips.

You sob out but no tears follow.

The air in your bedroom is chilly, but it's what's to be expected of late October.

You look around and nothing seems out of place- not at first. Your sight is drawn to your dresser. The black candle still burns, it's flame has dimmed and it's wax has melted low, dripping down over its holder and onto the pine below. You think that you should put it out before it becomes a hazard. However, the comfort of your bed and the pleasant memories keep you from moving too quickly.

A splash of orange color draws your attention and immediately you jump out of bed. You rush to the dresser, ignoring the candle, and reach for what you see.

It is a little pumpkin with its stem tied in a black and red velvet bow.

You start to cry. You know, for sure, that it wasn't there the night before. You know the events of the previous night were very real and not just a heartfelt dream. You smile, though it's sad. You feel a growing chill in the room, a jolt of electricity moves down your spine.

"Until next Halloween, my sweet little Pumpkin."

The words are whispered, paired with the ghost of a kiss to the nape of your neck.

Maybe this Halloween won't be so hard to get through. Maybe the rest of your days will get easier. You smile and hold the small pumpkin close to your chest.

"Thank you, Papa." You whisper into the seemingly empty room.

"I love you." You sigh, and know that you're ready to take on the day.


	2. Halloween Masquerade & The Full Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Features Papa Emeritus II, Set Halloween 1830

Every Halloween, people gather from miles around to meet at the mysterious Emeritus Church. Standing for centuries, no one truly knows what goes on there for the other 364 days that make up the year. Its true origins have been lost to time itself. Legend and lore have their takes but no one outside its barrier walls and large iron gates knows much of anything about it. Run by the Emeritus family, rumored to have been around since ancient times, occupants are wholly unknown to those who live in surrounding areas. It is an old and extravagant piece of architectural design, draped just as much in dark ivy vines as it is in secrets. It is hidden from the world, tucked away at the center of a thick forest of plush evergreens and tall, sturdy oak trees. Obscure from anyone that wouldn't know to look, the church stays hidden within the Great Forest.

Four villages are built up and occupy the stretches of land at each side of the Great Forest. All but one stand far from the edge of the wild wood, but the other three loom at its edges. Linked in many ways, but each their own, the villages do share one thing in common; the shared legends of what lies within those woods and the church they surround.

To the north, a village called Norrsken, is the smallest of the four. It’s a town where everyone knows everyone and rumors spread like untamed fires. Rocky with patches of dry grass, Norrsken looks uninhabitable, but many families call it home. They make their way in life through metal crafts and trade. It is too cold and the rocky soil is bad for crops.

Its northern borders touch the foothills of a vast mountain range. The towering peaks stay buried in snow and so few people climb their jagged slopes. The southern side of Norrsken touches an empty plain, separating its land from the Great Forest. Its people are kind hearted and welcoming to visitors, despite the unforgiving landscape. It is a village lost to time, old-fashioned and maybe primitive. Some people say it's older than the Emeritus Church that lies far to its south.

South of the wood is the largest of the four villages. An ever growing, progressive town with the name Sud. It's city-like in nature. Its center is built up with cobbled streets and sturdy brick buildings. The outskirts are vast fields where crops grow for wine production, flour milling and varying vegetables are grown to trade with the neighboring villages. Intermixed with its growing fields are flat pastures. Home to an assortment of domestic animals like cows, goats and pigs. It is home to friendly people, but they are a people less trusting of outsiders. They keep to themselves but are the main providers of the area's food and textile industry.

To the west is a place called Cowherd. It's name is misleading as there isn't a cow to be seen. It's a moderately sized place, that is closest of all to the outside world. It's people are trendy and a large university makes up its ever changing population. It's modern and maybe a bit more advanced than the other three. It is smaller than Sud but shares a similar construction, paved roads and solid stone buildings.

Lastly, to the east, is Easterland. It's not overly populated and its people are very involved with themselves. Many consider themselves deeply religious. They are very superstitious people and they never leave. It is built close to the Great Forest, some homes even popping up within the trees themselves. This is the village of the four that has the shortest distance to the Emeritus church. Though being in close proximity to the place, it remains just as unknown as it does to everyone else.

You grew up in Easterland, spending all your years living with its kind and generous people. You often spent time dreaming of what it might be like to see other places but this was your home and you never stray far. You were interested in what went on beyond your village and your curiosity about things often led to people proclaiming you were odd.

As a child you learned to have a respectful relationship with the woods that surround you. You know what trees provide the best wood for building, what berries are safe to eat and what leafy green plants might make you itch. Your people are of the wood and you fear it less than many others in this part of the world.

Easterland is a town of lumberjacks and woodworking people. You hunt, you forage and you live and play within the outlying trees. You all share a mindfulness of the things that may lurk within the shadows at night but none of you fear the forest itself during the daylight hours. You survive because of the trees but no one enters the deeper areas of the Great Forest, especially not alone.

They aren't entirely safe, so it's said, though your village has an advantage that the other villages did not, Easterland was built right into the forest, spreading from the trees, outwards and into the plains-like land around it. The people in your village know well enough not to stray too far.

Tales of monsters, unsightly beasts of another world, demons and werewolves pepper the lore of this area and it keeps you humble. No one tests the power these woods hold. You remember growing up, being just a little scared of what might come out at night. On a number of occasions domestic animals have gone missing, goats or sheep. Once or twice it was someone's family dog. There is talk of shadows moving without light and if you pay enough attention, bone chilling sounds can be heard coming from deep within the trees.

You decided early on that it was very likely that these tales were the product of misinformation and vivid imaginations, but still you remain mildly cautious. You have a strong head on your shoulders, curious but smart. You know enough to respect the warnings in those tales of old.

Each year, however, as the harvest draws to its close and the nights grow longer, the fear held by your people shifts to less intensity. You all find joy and thrills that come from this time of year. Ghost stories become prominent and the pull to the forest grows. You anticipate the night of Halloween and your yearly trip to the mysterious church for the festivities.

You don't recall the first time you made your way to the church for the Halloween Masquerade, only that it's been a tradition since you reached the age of eighteen. Custom invites every adult from your village and those villages nearby to attend. Men and women are welcomed to join in the Halloween Masquerade Ball at the Emeritus church. It is something that began long before you were born and would likely continue for years after you were gone. No one alive remembers just who it was that received the first invitation. It's common knowledge now, that if you're anyone at all, you make an appearance on Halloween night.

Every year since you reached the proper age, you would attend the masquerade with your lifelong best friend. You can recall the fun you have each time, the joy that lingers within you for days following. This year, however, she has fallen ill, a stomach bug of sorts, so you will be going on your own. You entertained the idea of missing out, but your friend reminded you how much effort you put into your costume and how you always look forward to the event each autumn.

No one travels to the church alone. Large groups go together, in covered coaches, open wagons and a few on horseback. From Easterland it's a half day traveling. For some of the other villages, it is a two day journey. You travel with some of your neighbors, their father owns a coach. Before you go, you're at your best friend's bedside, promising her you shall give the full rundown of the night's events upon your return.

Dressed up in your finest dress, you feel like you are at your best. You've been planning this outfit for months and you think it looks good. Your eager anticipation adds to your good feeling. It isn't just the excitement of this party that has you feeling high. You are excited to meet strangers, as the whole concept of this Halloween Masquerade is anonymity. Connecting without long-term commitments. You sit alongside someone you know from town but whose name escapes you for the entire ride through the wood.

Set against your lap is your mask, one you will slip over your face when the time is right. You worked harder on this piece than the entirety of your outfit and it's the piece you're most proud of. Smooth velvet, trimmed in silver threads, that you hand embroidered yourself make up the base of your mask. You spent months working on it, paying attention to each and every detail. It covers the top portion of your face, only showing off your eyes from behind it. A short beak, like that of a raven, adds shape to your face. Beautiful, iridescent feathers stick up to cover your forehead and reach backwards to cover the sides of your face and ears. The whole mask will stay securely tied with a fancy lace ribbon you found in a shop.

It looks stunning with your floor length gown, made from fine silk and crushed velvet. Your skirt is layered, yet sleeker than what the trendy fashion calls for. Your sleeves are short, hemmed and sewn up with lace trim. Dark gloves cover your hands and reach three quarters of the way up your arm. A mere sliver of skin is bare between the dress sleeve and the glove, scandalous for certain, but forgivable on this one night of the year. Beneath the dress, you had your sister lace up a corset for you. It's customary to wear one but most of the year you can't be bothered. It cinches your waist and you feel only mild tightness and inconvenience. It's comfortable enough for one night, you think.

To complete your look, a compliment to the outfit and mask, you lined your eyes with a heavy dose of kohl liner, giving the illusion that your eyes have sunken in. It's ghastly but you like it. Halloween is a day you can play things up. You painted your lips in a glossy red paint. It is a striking difference to your typical look. You feel confident that you will remain unknown to anyone who crosses your path that night. You feel beautiful and mysterious. It's a nice feeling.

After what seems like forever, the coach pulls up to the grand entrance of the church and you tie the mask around your head. You give it a wiggle, making sure that it will stay in place as you mingle, dance and partake in the gluttonous buffet that's always offered. You wait your turn to exit the coach and once you're standing outside you give yourself a stretch. You take a few paces, testing out the fit of your shoes. They feature a low heel and it’s entirely new to you. You decide you like it and that you can manage to wear them comfortably all night.

You look out across the property and smile as the last golden rays of sunshine filter through the trees and kiss the edge of the stone walls that keep the church apart from the rest of the world. You find it silly, the wall seems like an afterthought as the woods themselves provide a thick barrier to keep the world out.

"I'm so excited!" You say to anyone who might be listening.

A glance around you let's you know that your coachmates have already disbanded and made their way inside. As lovely as the setting sun is from where you stand, you gather your thoughts and make your way up the stone steps and to the front door.

As you've come to expect, standing just inside the door, two men are stationed on either side of the double width entryway. Dressed in fine tailored clothes in the deepest shade of black, you are reminded how each time you see them you can't shake the comparison of clergy attire to what they wear. However, the look is betrayed, skewed by the presence of silver masks, cut and shaped like the face of a demon. It's the same costume year after year.

You smile at one yet it is clear they cannot smile back. You gaze into the masked face, trying to read the expression in his eyes. You see only darkness and it leaves a prickling of goosebumps on your skin.

"I welcome you on behalf of the Emeritus Bloodline." The man says and it isn’t what they say that sends another rippling of goosebumps along your skin, rather that it seems as if the voice came from directly inside your mind.

That isn't something you remember ever happening before. You wonder if it has or if this is something new. Perhaps a trick of the mind to fit the theme of the night. Whatever it is, you offer another smile and work your way beyond the foyer and into the grand hall.

"Enjoy your evening, madame." A similarly dressed, masked man says, again sounding as if he's speaking directly inside your mind.

He passes you as you walk along.

All around you, the hall is decorated to the nines. It's the same, fanciful and over the top kind of decor you have come to associate with the church. Intricate stained glass, set within peaked arches, crystal chandeliers and expensive candelabras. You always assume that this is the kind of look the church keeps year round but you never ask and no one ever tells. Special to the occasion, massive bouquets of seasonal flowers top the tables. Ropes of twisted vines and dried gourds hang above walkways and from elegant pots on the ceiling. Lamps along the walls burn chemical oils, leaving a glow of different and unnatural colors.

As you make your way through crowds of attendees, you bypass a large dance floor. Couples of all shapes and sizes waltz around to piano and harp music. You wish you had someone to dance with but knew the night was still young. There was time. You very well may find yourself a partner. Your stomach rumbles, the scent of fresh fruits, smoked meats and baked sweets draws you towards the buffet. As you walk along you admire the costumes, the makeup and masks of those around you.

A loud and piercing laughter catches your attention and you turn to see what the fuss is about. A man in a finely tailored suit, looking a century outdated but stunning nonetheless, is standing upon what looks like a wooden crate, drawing attention to himself. His appearance is in a formal fashion and his face is painted like that of a human skull, but with cleaner lines and more definition between light and dark colors. His jet black hair shines in the multicolored lights. Below him, an audience of nearly two dozen seem captivated by what he has to say. You are too far away to really listen in, but you can tell from your place that he's an animated man, talking with deep expressions and wild arm movements. You pick up a few key words: Lust. Excess. Sex. Orgasm. You understand him, yes, but you don’t yet understand why he is speaking of such things. Your empty belly overriding your interest keeps you moving along.

Someone slips past you, accidentally knocking you from behind. You glance to see it's another man, dressed in black with a silver demonic mask that matched those worn by the greeters. They whisper an apology, and again, you hear it only inside your mind. The masks lack a mouth piece. You nod your acceptance of his apology and he's gone in a flash. Once more your belly rumbles and you continue your walk to the food.

The variety of edible options reaches far beyond what your mind could imagine. There are trays of sliced fruit and baked goods, which indicate your nose had not betrayed you. There are meats and cheeses. There are roasted vegetable dishes and vats of soup. Boiled grains, elaborate cakes and items that you haven't the foggiest idea about. It all looks tempting and you plan on trying most.

"I'm so hungry." Someone says, brushing past you to grab a dish.

There is a table beside the buffet with empty plates, glasses and cutlery.

You sigh, they hadn't been kind enough to offer an apology. You pay no mind, solely focused on enjoying yourself. A pushy party goer will not spoil this night for you. It's a night that means so much to you.

You fill up a plate with finger foods and snacks. You find an empty place along the wall, under a row of windows and eat your fill. As you move to place your dirty plate on the proper collection table, you note that the room seems darker. You realize then that the sun has fully set and the room is now lit only in lamp light.

"Pardon, miss." Someone says, and you get the feeling that someone is approaching you from the left.

You turn and see a man, standing taller than you, looking at you. His expression is blank with a hint of seriousness, but beneath the glare you notice a kindness in his eyes. You notice more than kindness too. You see that his eyes are unlike any other you'd seen before. One is a sparkling green and the other is white. It's interesting to you.

"Sir." You say with a polite nod.

You have no idea who this man is, but based upon his attire, expensive robes of black and emerald, and a silver mitre decorated with an inverted cross, you suspect that he may be one of the church clergy. Not just anyone, but someone important.

Like the man on the crate you spotted before indulging in your dinner, you note this man wears no mask. In place of a full disguise, his face is painted up like a skull. It looks different than the others; his style of paint looks more natural. It is well done but less bold. It is frightening but in the fashion that fits the mood of the party and Halloween theme. Paired with the intense look in his duel colored eyes, you feel slightly intimidated, but not enough to walk away. There is something else beneath the intimidation, but you haven't figured it out just yet.

"Enjoying yourself?" The man asks, taking a step closer to you.

"I am." You say, feeling as your heart starts to beat faster.

You are no stranger to the feelings of attraction but never before has it come on so strong or quickly. You know that it's an attraction to this man that has your heart beating so fast. You can tell he's probably quite handsome beneath all that face painting but you wonder if it’s only wishful thinking. It isn’t too often you draw the attention of the opposite sex. Maybe you do, but it was never something you noticed or ever desired to reciprocate very much. Only a select few men could hold your attention, even less held your affections.

You wonder if this is your chance to find that dance partner you've been hoping for. Your sense of wonder is littered with notes of anxiety, because he looks too important to want to dance with you. You think he wouldn't normally take notice of someone like you. You start to think he's just being polite, a member of the church asking how you're enjoying the party.

He is still looking at you though and your heart flutters. You shove that anxiety of yours right down, remembering that the plus side to an anonymous setting, is that who you are doesn't really matter. At the Halloween Masquerade, everyone was playing on even grounds.

"I could not help but notice that you look a bit lonely, like you may be in need of a partner." He says.

"I am looking to dance, yes." You say and your lips curl into a little smile.

You see he smiles back and it looks a hint unnerving with the skull paint. It doesn't stop you from waiting around to see if he'll ask.

"May I have the next dance then?" He inquires and you're all too eager to oblige.

"You may, sir." You reply and find yourself fully entranced by him.

You'd do anything he asked, you think. You reach out and take his hand when it's offered to you. Upon it, a black leather glove.

"My name is Papa Emeritus the Second." He says and you think, this is his church.

"You may simply call me Papa, or Emeritus if you prefer. I expect there is no need for formality on a night such as this."

Again he smiles at you. His fingers close more firmly around yours.

"I hope that you are finding this event to your liking." He continues, taking the first step to lead you towards the dance floor.

"I like you very much." You say in reply, blushing as you catch your mistake.

You're distracted by his smile no doubt. It's charming but in a unique way.

It was a true lapse in your mind, finding yourself a bit smitten since he's approached you. There is a smirk on his lips and your blush deepens. You feel a tingle in your lower abdomen. You get the sense he's amused by your words. You know then that he caught your slip up.

"I am liking this party, Emeritus." You correct yourself with a shy smile: the blush remains on your cheeks.

You decide to call him by his name, rather than title. As you do not belong to his church, you feel that calling him Papa would seem out of place.

His hand still grasps yours and you take sure steps, following his lead. You are so focused on him that you do not take notice that as the pair of you walk along that you both draw the attention of everyone in your path. You might expect him to be the one drawing the attention but you'd be surprised that they also look to you. To be seen with the Second, you are immediately assumed to be someone worthy of interest.

"Is this your first time?" He asks, guiding you into a position to stand before him.

It sets you looking into his painted face and you feel that flutter in your heart again. The look in his eyes is piercing but you can't quite break the gaze. You begin to sway with him but the dance is slow to find its structure and rhythm. Neither of you are in form, just allowing the music to move you. It feels right, even if it might not look as it should.

"Dancing?" You ask.

"Formally, yes. Sometimes I dance alone when I am home. I've never had a dance partner, or music as pleasing as this to dance to." You add before he answers your question.

"I typically come to this event with a friend of mine and we socialize for the most part. We chat with strangers, eat plenty of good food and mingle about rather than spend time looking for dance partners." You say.

You are finding you're probably talking so much to settle the fluttering inside you. It isn’t really nerves but maybe your nerves do play into it. You like the feeling inside you, despite how new it is to you.

He smiles and it reaches his eyes. When he smiles like that, you don’t feel so unsettled by the paint he wears. He looks warm and friendly beneath his painted face.

"So this is not your first time at our Halloween Masquerade then." He says.

"No." You whisper, feeling his grip on your hand tightening.

Instinctively, you tighten your grip as well. His gloved hands are larger than yours but his hold is not overpowering.

"I've been coming for years." You explain and settle into his hold as his other hand finds rest at your waist.

His touch to you there is lighter than how he holds your hand; light but you know he has a steady grasp.

"It's the highlight of my year, if you don't mind me saying that." You whisper with a laugh.

"No mind at all. A pleasure to welcome you back." He whispers and that smile returns to his lips.

You shiver involuntarily as he presses a quick kiss to the back of your gloved hand. It's over in a blink of an eye and he reinstates the position to dance.

You smile back and you suddenly feel as if you've had too much wine. You know that isn't the case, but the feeling is very real. You feel warm and loose and you can't stop yourself from staring at him. The look in his eyes let's you know he's all too aware of you staring. He actually seems to appreciate the attention. You are happy to give it. Not once in your life have you felt like this.

"Why has your friend not come along tonight?" He asks and it's clear he can carry a conversation while you are somewhat involved with your dance.

"She is unwell." You answer.

"She had no choice but to remain home."

"Nothing too serious I hope." He says.

"I don't believe so." You reply.

"I imagine a day or two of bed rest will have her back on her feet."

It is your hope as well as belief.

The music lulls before picking back up and as if on perfect cue, the two of you begin to dance more elegantly to the tune. You've got no real training on how to properly waltz around but you're a fast learner and follow his lead quite easily. The longer you go, the less you find yourself counting your steps and spending more time enjoying the act.

You're not sure when it happened but you catch on to the fact his hand slips from your waist to rest his arm low across your back. It sets his hand quite close to your bottom and if you weren't so excited about it, you might feel it scandalous.

He tightens his hold and it keeps you much closer to him than is probably socially acceptable. Still, you do not care. You start to feel an ache in your chest but it's not painful. It's warming and you like it a lot.

"This is your church, is it not?" You find yourself inquiring, curiosity getting the better of your judgment.

To your knowledge, inquiries about the church are not something that happens. There was a very real reason this place remained so mysterious for centuries. To your relief, he doesn't seem off-put by your curiosity. His expression appears like he is willing to answer.

"My father's. Perhaps in due time, this church will be mine." He says, pulling you even closer to him, pressing his body flush against yours.

His actions surprise you but you rather enjoy the surprise. You realize that he has a nice body beneath those robes. A thought that you might wish to see it better flitters through your brain. It isn’t a thought you think you should be having. It isn’t proper, but again you're finding you don't care about being proper. Tonight is a night to let loose, a night to behave improperly.

"Do you wish to join us?" He questions, spinning you around as the music gets louder.

"Yes, of course, Emeritus." You say.

"That's why I'm here." You add with a smile.

You mistake the meaning of his question at first. You think it odd he asked you to join them, while you were already there.

"You wish to be initiated?" He says and it's at that moment you realize your misunderstanding of his original question.

It occurs to you then, that it's probable the yearly Halloween Masquerade is a clever way to gain members for the church. It never occurred to you before that moment.

"I do not have an answer for you Emeritus." You say, though feel tempted to say yes if it means getting to see him again.

You don't say yes because you know nothing of this place. Your obvious attraction to him makes you want to learn, which is why you don't just say no.

"The night is still young." He says, spinning you around again, stepping back, as the tempo of the music increases.

Both of his hands fall to your hips, holding you as you might expect to be held by a trusting lover. The two of you have just met but it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable. You do miss the close contact of his body against yours as it was when the dance began.

He starts to dance faster and you're taken along with him, quickening your steps as you both move and twirl to the beautiful music.

Your hands are set against him, one on his shoulder and the other on his hip. Through the slim fit of your gown, you know he can feel the shape of your body, as you felt his body through his robes. It's quite intimate, you think. It seems a bit quick but you really don't mind.

"The idea of religion is not something I am very familiar with." You admit, making a misstep as you pick up speed in your dancing.

"My family follows no set religion but we adhere to the values set by the faith practiced by most in our village."

"Our religion is very accommodating and open to personal tailoring. We welcome anyone who wants to be here." He says, giving you information without much detail.

"Sets of rules and guidelines are in place but foremost we respect the idea of free will. If it does not interest you, we shall speak of it no further."

As the pair of you dance around through the crowd, you find yourself counting steps again. The music seems louder, faster, as the tempo builds. You think for only a moment that the room seems more crowded, but it passes quickly. Minutes go by like seconds, and the party seems to fade from your mind. You know that you remain in the room and the party goes on but it loses priority of your attention.

You lose count of your steps as your heel catches a seam in the stones of the floor. Your ankle rolls and you stumble forwards into Emeritus. He catches you before you fall to the ground. The moment has you both standing there as others continue to dance and move around.

"I'm so clumsy." You whisper, cheeks red in embarrassment.

Your pride is hurt more than your ankle.

"You okay though?" He asks and doesn't appear to think you are clumsy at all and like he isn't going to tease you for it.

You can't look at him, still feeling silly for the stumble.

Your eyes scan the room and what you see surprises you. Few couples on the dance floor are moving about with proper techniques but what catches your attention is the large amount that are not. Bodies are pressed closer than what might be deemed acceptable. Hands are in places that make you blush. A few have abandoned dancing all together and are partaking in vaguely sexual acts. Some take it further, nothing vague about it. You blush. Had it not been for the cover of fancy and elaborate costumes, you might compare the scene to some kind of orgy. You are shocked but the sight is intriguing. You feel yourself warm further and you become all too aware of a slow throbbing sensation between your legs.

"Shall we sit a moment?" He asks and his voice brings you back to focusing on him.

You don’t forget what you've seen.

You nod, liking the idea of a break. Your heart is pumping blood quickly but you can't decide if it's from the energy of dancing, the ideas sparked by what's going on around you, or being in such close proximity to a handsome and important man. You realize that you're still leaning on him, resting in his arms. You feel that his embrace is more of a hug and less a support to keep you stable.

"Will you tell me your name?" Emeritus asks you, helping you to stand up straight.

Forgetting the concept of anonymity, you tell him. When you are sure you have your footing, you let go of his arms.

"And which village is your home?" He inquires, leading you back towards the tables.

There are quite a lot of people in the way. You wonder if it has always been this crowded on Halloween night and you’d just never noticed.

"Easterland." You reply.

"The western end of Easterland."

Your obvious attraction to him makes you quite forthcoming with your answers. The comfort of his company makes you wish to continue this conversation through to its end. You're willing to tell him anything he might wish to know.

"I see." He says and there's no way you can read the connotation behind it.

His expression appears emotionless, everywhere but in his eyes. No, his eyes show you a passion and look into yours with intensity.

"I grew up within the outer limits of the forest." You say.

"My family is still there."

"And you?" He questions, running his hand down your arm to hold yours as you walk through the crowd.

"Do you still live at home?"

"I do not." You whisper.

"I live not far from the house I grew up in. A cottage surrounded by the edging trees of the Great Forest."

"You're married then?" He says in a curious tone.

"No." You answer.

"I live alone."

It isn't uncommon for adult children to live at home in Easterland, and typically they leave home only once they are ready to marry and start their own family. For you, that wasn't the case. You chose to go out on your own, liking the idea of a solitary life. You enjoy the company of family and friends but you also value moments of alone time.

"You live within the trees?" He asks, probably looking to understand better what you've explained already.

"I do." You answer.

"You don't share the same fears that many in these parts have." He says, though it seems inquisitive without being an outright question.

"I don't fear the forest, no." You say.

"I respect it, never go out at night but no, I have no fear of what lives beyond the edge." You explain.

The conversation stops there but it doesn't feel strange or awkward between you. You both find a seat at a table. There are several to choose from, as many party goers are occupied with other things. You sit beside Emeritus, rather than across from him. You don’t really know why you chose to sit beside him, rather than with the small table between you.

A silver masked woman, dressed in the same manner as all the silver masked men you've encountered, brings the pair of you goblets of wine, deep red and smelling of fruit. You smile at the woman but the mask leaves her without a way to smile back. You feel as if she has though, getting a pleasant feeling as she gently bows her head in your direction.

You relax, stretching your legs and sip your wine slowly. It's delicious and just as fruity as your nose suspected. You love the taste of wine, having been drinking it since you were old enough to hold a glass on your own. You never drink too much, careful to avoid the washy feeling that comes with excess. You enjoy its flavor but are less fond of lost inhibitions.

Emeritus is seated beside you, holding onto his wine but not sipping from the glass. He's looking into it, but you don’t know why. You miss the closeness of his body, flush to yours as you danced. You wonder if he’s willing to hold you again once your break is over. You know that you would enjoy that very much. The thought leaves you feeling happy and hopeful.

You look at him, wondering why he's gone so quiet. He seems contemplative, maybe a touch of worry creases his brows.

"In as few words as possible, tell me what you can about this church." You say, taking the chance to shift your chair closer to him.

He looks up from the glass, dual colored eyes meeting yours. He doesn't look away. The worry is gone. The expression on his face hints that he is trying to think of his words carefully. He has your attention when he is ready to answer.

"We worship Satan, the Devil, if that name is more common to you." He says.

“No being ranks higher in our praises, unless you count oneself. We value the idea in honoring the self above all. We believe that many aspects of life, that other religions call sins, are things that should be enjoyed. We believe in enjoying life as a whole. Do no harm but do not deny yourself the thrill of desires. Life should be pleasurable. Perhaps we dwell on living in excess. We indulge in all life's pleasures. We believe in lust, in getting what you want, provided that feelings and desires are reciprocated.”

The idea of lust certainly explains the acts you witnessed on the dance floor. You don't feel all that bothered by the idea of it. It is a feeling uncommon to you but not something that you've never experienced before. It was something that you never acted on though.

The way Emeritus makes you feel, however, makes you want to act on it. You're quite interested in giving into your desires. You gaze at him, with a longing in your heart and a fire like burn igniting in your belly. It's certainly a concept that you understand and one that doesn't offend you. Maybe it isn’t what many in your village believe in, but you can see yourself getting behind the idea. You have a growing curiosity to learn more. It grows, alongside the fire inside you. You feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"I'm interested." You whisper and he smiles, just a slight curve of his lips.

"I'm glad." He says but something stops him from saying more.

A tall silver masked man seems to appear rather suddenly and steals the attention of Emeritus.

You sit quietly, watching what seems to be a conversation between them, but as before no words are spoken. You are reminded of every interaction between you and similar men. You assume that he is speaking directly into Emeritus's mind. You take the time during this interruption to finish your wine.

"Leave." Emeritus says to the masked man dismissively.

You notice that he looks slightly agitated. There is a look in his eyes that touches on something deeper than mild inconvenience.

The silver masked man bows and walks away, seeming to disappear from view just as quickly as he arrived.

"Everything alright?" You ask, wanting to know what that was all about, yet mindful enough not to pry too deeply.

You only ask because his entire mood seems to shift.

"Yes." Emeritus says, in a way that you think that maybe he's lying.

You nod, taking his word for what it is. If Emeritus says things are alright, you'll go along with it.

"Those men- " You begin but stop, trying to figure out how best to approach the subject.

"They are ghouls." Emeritus says.

"Servants of this church."

"Yes, ghouls." You say with a smile.

You are taken by surprise just how dedicated to the Halloween theme the man is.

"That trick with their words is mysterious and delightful." You say, smiling.

Emeritus laughs, the sound deep. It is pleasing to your ears and it makes the fire in your belly spread even further.

"What is funny?" You ask, voice barely even a whisper.

"How deep is your interest in this church, my dear?" Emeritus asks, leaning closer to you, closing the space created when the ghoul arrived.

You warm at the sweet term of endearment.

"Deep enough, I think." You say, feeling a natural pull towards him and you lean closer as well.

"There is no trick. What you experience and what you see, it is all true to their nature." Emeritus says, and his tone leaves you compelled to believe it.

"I don't quite understand what you mean, Emeritus." You say, but are open to hear his explanation.

"These ghouls are not of this world. They are not men, as you know men." He explains.

"No trick of the mind, they communicate telepathically. Their masks offer a sense of protection for our kind. The ghouls are creatures of Hell, and this bunch have been tamed. They are otherworldly, but I promise you that they are no threat to you or anyone here."

You look at him as he speaks. You are captivated by his words, enamored by his voice and increasingly aroused by the look in his eyes.

"Are you a ghoul as well Emeritus?" You ask quietly and wish you had more wine as you suspect he might say yes.

By rights, you believe that you should have some inkling of fear if he's speaking the truth, or at least a sense that he's speaking nonsense. It can't be true that creatures from another world exist. You've heard the rumors, the legend and lore. You dismissed it all as fabrication the moment you grew up.

"I am no ghoul." Emeritus replies.

You nod.

"What do their masks protect us from?" You want to know.

"The masks shield the ghouls' true form from the human race. I assume you understand what kinds of chaos would arise, should their nature be made public."

"It would create chaos, yes." You say in agreement with his assumption.

You didn't think most people would be so ready to accept such information. You're a little surprised that you are.

"What must I do to join your church?" You ask.

"You must be willing to join of your own free will." Emeritus says.

"That is all?" You ask, trying to decide if it seems too easy.

He nods.

"There is an initiation ceremony if you wish to become involved with the clergy, but consent and a willingness to be here is all we need to make you part of the congregation. Well, consent and maybe an open mind. There are things here that may not have an easy explanation."

You say nothing, just sit there and look at him. You let his words sink in. You know that you have made your choices. You want in. You want to dedicate yourself to this church, in hope that it will allow you to be close to Emeritus.

Before you know what it is that you are doing, you're up on your feet. You step closer to where he sits. You want to ask him if it would be okay to dance again. You feel the strong pull to press your body back to his, feel him on you. It's as exciting as it is strange for you. You've never once felt these things so strongly before.

Emeritus is watching you, watching as if he knows what you plan on doing. He makes no indication that he will rise from his chair but you get the sense that he wants you to keep moving closer. You take one step. Your eyes stay locked on his. It's like you're both under a spell of sorts, compelled to be close.

"No, it's totally true." A loud voice from beside you seems to snap the spell.

The voice belongs to a man. He sounds young but with all the costumes and masks you know you will never know for sure. You turn to the source and feel slightly upset that you’ve been so rudely interrupted. You just don’t know yet what you have been interrupted from.

"It’s all poppycock." Another person says, contradicting the first person to speak.

This time it is a woman who speaks up and she is walking arm and arm with the first man to speak.

"You'd be a fool to believe any of this." She says.

You find yourself looking at a group of two men and two women.

"Yes, I agree with Lizzie." The second woman says.

"This is all part of some silly story that is meant to instill fear amongst the party-goers. Halloween is a laugh, for sure, but these horror stories are not to be believed."

"You ladies are both wrong. I firmly believe the rumors. I’ve seen the creature myself." The last of the four speaks up.

"Ran past my window when I was still a boy."

"You are a gullible man Alexander." The woman you know is called Lizzie says.

"There are no such things as monsters, least of all a werewolf. You believe this nonsense as if it were true."

"Truly." The other woman says.

"A man who turns into a wolf by light of the moon? It’s ridiculous! It isn’t creative storytelling. It's repetitive misinformation from ages before us. I'd be more likely to enjoy a more updated tale. I've grown bored of this lame story."

You are pulled from your unintentional listening in by the touch of Emeritus’s hand on yours. You whip your head to the side and once again your eyes meet his and he is all you can see and all you care about.

"Will you sit?" He asks you, giving a tug to your arm.

"Yes." You say very quietly.

You are sure but you are just a little confused by his meaning. His seat isn't built for two. Your confusion fades as the man pulls you down until you are sitting in his lap. It takes you by surprise, yes, but you feel no reason to stand back up. You remember his words: give into your desires, and you do desire to have this closeness to him.

"This is okay?" Emeritus asks and his lips are moving very close to your ear.

The brush of his lips makes you shiver but you have enough sense to nod in reply. It’s very okay, you think. You settle into his arms, which he closes around your waist, keeping you in his lap.

"What do you know about what these people speak of?" You ask quietly.

"Are there monsters in these woods?"

You are positive he heard them; they were loud and distracting.

Emeritus is very quiet and it makes you shiver, but not from your attraction to him. It's a shudder of fear from his silence. You can't see him from where you sit, with your back to his front. You can feel his touch at your legs. It is a feeling you like.

"There are monsters, yes." He answers you after a long pause.

"Werewolves?" You ask, turning your head to look back at him.

You see something flicker in his eyes but don't understand what it means.

"Yes." He whispers and you shudder in his hold.

"One wolf, the creatures are wildly territorial."

You find yourself believing him. He might know more, from his position in the church.

Perhaps you were too quick to dismiss the rumors as just that. You start to think that there are real truths to the stories you have been told. It leaves a growing fear inside you but not enough to go running away from this place. You look away from him and gaze at the large stained glass window. No light shines through this time of night.

"Is this creature from Hell?" You ask, urging yourself to calm down.

Just because you know this so-called werewolf is real doesn't mean it will get inside the church. You start to calm, feel safe in Emeritus's arms.

"I don't know where this creature originated, but it draws its powers from Hell." Emeritus says and you feel his hand moving up along your leg, touching your thigh through your skirt.

"But it's half human as well, and that means it's of this world too."

You feel a flood of mixed emotions. You are chilled by his words but warmed by his touch. In a normal setting you think you might ask him to stop but you're enjoying it too much. As the brush of his hand moves further up, reaching close to your groin you feel a strange pull at the base of your stomach and spine. You are increasingly aroused but don't quite understand that yet. These feelings are new to you, but remembering his words, about giving into your desires, you want them to continue.

"I do not wish to discuss this any further." He says and you wonder what he wants to talk about.

"What do you wish to talk about then?" You ask, and the pitch of your voice goes way up, as his gloved hand brushes over your most sensitive and private area.

No one has touched you like this before. Even you have denied yourself the chance, having been raised to believe that it wasn’t something a lady should do. It wasn’t proper behavior. You'd thought about it on the rare occasion, but never followed through with the temptation.

His touch sends a shiver down your spine, even as it’s through the layers of your skirt and undergarments. You tense and gasp. It prompts him to stop. You reach for his arm, grabbing him right at the wrist, stopping him from pulling away. You feel him smile against the back of your neck.

"Don’t." You whisper, wanting him to continue.

"Keep it, please." You sigh.

It feels pleasant, making you warm and it tingles like no other touch. You want him to keep going. You don't care that you're in a room with hundreds of people.

"This is okay to you?" He asks and you nod.

You release his wrist and his hand stays put. It is resting between your legs but he makes no further movements. You feel the weight of his hand against you. It’s pleasing and also not enough. He's lit a fire inside you and it needs to burn brighter.

"Tell me what you desire?" He whispers and his lips are back at your ear.

"You." You sigh, without so much as a second thought.

"I desire you, Emeritus." You whisper.

You know that no matter how strange and new this is to you, you wish to see it through. You know that you will give him anything he desires so long as he gives you what you want.

"You tell me to stop at any time and I will." He says and again you nod.

You trust he is a man of honor and believe him when he says these things. You get no feeling that he will do anything that you’re not okay with and it settles your nerves in that aspect. The pleasured nerve impulses, however, keep going and you feel yourself lean against him.

Your back rests against his chest and you let your eyes close, forgetting the crowded ballroom around you. In that moment it is just you and Emeritus.

"Tell me what you want from me." He says and starts to press against you through the layers once again.

"Tell me just how far you wish to take this."

He applies enough pressure with his hand to make you shiver but he doesn’t move in any other direction. No up or down, no side to side, only pushes against you. He brings his other hand around and trails it up the side of your body. It doesn’t appear to be as intimate of a touch but it draws a warming effect just the same. An innocent touch has never left you feeling like this. You shudder in his lap, leaning further into him, tilting your head back just slightly.

"I don’t know." You say, hips tilting into his touch.

You don't know what you want, having no experience to fall back on. You only know what he’s willing to show you and you trust him to help you decide.

"This feels nice. Don't stop." You whisper.

He keeps his hand steady before grinding the heel of his palm against you. It draws a little moan and you sigh deeply.

"Have you ever given into your desires like this?" He asks.

There's no implications that he'll judge you for your answer but you sense he knows you're new to this.

"Not like this." You whisper.

"Will you kiss me?" He asks, guiding you to turn your head as his hand reaches the curve of your neck.

You turn easily, appreciative but not needing his gentle coaxing. You want to kiss him. You look into his eyes and whisper yes. Together, you both lean in and you feel his lips press to yours. It seems silly but you easily imagine that this is the best feeling.

While most aspects of a sexual nature are new to you, kissing is not. In your past you’ve kissed a few boys that struck your fancy but not one has ever felt like the kiss from Emeritus. Your mouths seem to fit, just right, and it’s soft. As you grew into a woman, no man was able to make you feel this way.

Your lips part under his and you can feel his tongue slide into your mouth. His hand cradles your head and the kiss grows deeper. You moan, the sound low and drowned out in his mouth. You swirl your tongue around his, and you can feel him moan into you. The kiss itself and the moans you both make send flutters through your belly and a spreading heat between your legs. You come to the realization that his ability to arouse you has made you quite wet.

As the kiss deepens, it gets a little awkward, thanks to the mask you wear, but you two manage to work with it. You have a moment of temptation to slide the mask up and off, but don’t know how that might go over. You leave it tied firmly around your head.

The hand between your legs begins to move, rubbing circles against you and your moan shifts to a needy whine. You feel warm and your body is tingling. Your kiss falters as you squirm is his lap but soon you two work out a way to keep going.

This is a very pleasurable experience and you silently pray that it won’t stop. You know that your prayer seems silly, nothing can last forever, but you want these feelings to continue. You already know that the memory of this night will be with you for a long long time.

Without saying anything, Emeritus sits back and using only strategically placed hands, he guides you in a way that turns you in his lap. The tight and slimming design of your long skirts make it impossible to straddle his legs but you sit in a way that you can turn your upper body to his. You let your arms circle his neck in a loose hug. It keeps you steady as you start kissing again. They drop lower, around the place below his shoulders and that is more to draw him closer to you and less of an aid in balance.

You don’t immediately register that your movements against him are causing him to become increasingly more aroused, though if you took the time to think about it, you’d know it made sense. You know that he must be feeling similar to you, or things would not be progressing as they were. It isn’t until you break the kiss and shift back that you can feel he is hard under his robes. His cock is pressing against your thigh and the very thought that you played a part in getting him to this state makes you feel a swell of pride.

"Emeritus." You whisper his name, bringing your hand to his face.

Your touch is light, a brush of fingers along his chin. You look into his eyes and you see he looks at you with the same kind of lust that you are feeling. He whispers your name.

"Much like religion, I know little of giving into life's pleasures." You say.

"Will you teach me?" You ask.

"I will teach you everything that you wish to know." He says, gazing into your eyes.

"I will give you all that you desire, show you things that will blow your mind, if you ask for it."

There is a deeply ruff edge to his voice and it sends a tingly pulse to the place between your legs.

"I desire it all." You say, dropping your hand to the side of his neck.

"But first, some more of your kisses would be appreciated." You add with a flush of your cheeks.

"Kiss me if that is what you want." He whispers, moving his hand to the back of your head.

He gently pushes you closer and you're leaning in, crashing your lips to his. You kiss him long and hard. You crave more and more, wishing for him to take you some place that you can be alone with him.

His hand slips back to your apex and he rubs you with purpose. You shiver and groan, reaching down to touch him as he begins kissing down your throat. You brush his cock, making him moan against your skin. You grab him through the robes, rubbing against his erection. It's not something you've done before but you learn quickly, he likes it.

He grabs at your chest with his other hand, the corset stops him from feeling much. You sigh, disappointed by that but thrilled by everything else.

"You should be in bed with me." He whispers, voice cracking as you continue to palm him.

"Let me take you to my private chambers." He says.

"Yes." You whisper, rocking into his touch.

You suddenly feel overwhelmed and have a desire, a need, to feel his touch without your skirts in the way. You think, for the first time, what it might be like to have him bring you to the ultimate release. You desire to feel him move inside you. You're very interested in taking things to that point tonight.

The clang of the church bells ring out, over the sound of the music and buzzing chatter of all the people in the room.

"You!" A loud voice bellows from a place behind the chair.

Emeritus is shocked into silence and stillness. He removes his hands and lips from your body.

You look up, over his shoulder to the source of the voice.

An ancient looking man approaches the two of you. He's dressed in pale robes and he too has a skull painted face. You can see the anger, most prominent in his eyes, which look hazed over, almost entirely white in color. He moves much quicker than you expect a man of his apparent age. You have no idea who he is but are smart enough to recognize he's part of the church.

"Leave." He says to you, pulling you off Emeritus.

"Now." He demands of you.

His touch wasn't soft and his words were unkindly barked.

You don't appreciate what is happening but it is all happening too fast to stop it. You find yourself being flung away from the chair, away from Emeritus.

You feel frightened and the fear overpowers the very prominent aroused state you'd just been in. You are scared and want to run but you stay. You stumble back, watching what seems like a bad situation unfolding.

The bells continue to ring over the church. A loud clamor every few seconds, counting up towards twelve. It echoes throughout the wide space of the crowded ballroom.

"You were told not to come tonight!" The ancient man yells at Emeritus.

You watch an angry looking snarl cross Emeritus's face and it's a contradiction of any expression that you have seen since meeting him. It's clear to you that he's upset by the words. You know he doesn't like being told what he can and can't do. You feel as if you shouldn't be listening in but you can't make your legs move to walk you away.

The two men start to argue and it’s entirely out of your control. You watch as the older man eventually grabs Emeritus by the ear and drags him away. You can hear Emeritus loud and clear as he shouts and yells expletives towards the other man and you learn that it's his father. They fade from your view and you know it is much too late to follow.

The final toll of midnight rings and you are left standing by yourself. You feel so helplessly alone even as there are hundreds of people around you. You don't have any way of knowing if Emeritus will come back. You know nothing about if you'll ever see him again. You start to cry.

All you want to do is go home. You have had your fun but it was cut short the moment Emeritus was taken away. You have no interest or intentions of trying to meet anyone else on this night. You realize just how smitten you were with the man. You only want him, and if you are not with him you want to leave.

You look through the crowd, clinging to the hope that Emeritus would come back. As the minutes tick by without a glimpse, you feel your hope fade.

You want to go home.

You walk away from the table and empty chairs. Your eyes are downcast, avoiding the chance of someone seeing you cry. You make your way towards the exit. You know that the party will go on for the next several hours. You know that it runs until the sun comes up. You don't have a way home, as you know the forest isn't safe to travel alone, especially on foot. Emeritus told you the rumors were true. This particular Halloween coincides with the full moon. You are afraid of what might meet you out in the woods.

Still, your desire to be alone leads you out of the ballroom and into the large foyer. There are many people around out here too. Some are talking and others are caught up in a similar situation that you'd been interrupted from. It makes you sad, missing the feeling of what Emeritus had done to you. You don't want to stand there and watch people indulging in lustful urges so you keep walking. You decide that some fresh air is in order. You doubt the monstrous wolf can make it to this side of the church walls. You'll be safe if you stay close by, you think.

A loud roar echoes from one of the many corridors that branch off the foyer. It is unexpected and frightening. It is followed by a long and low howl, then various screams of terror. You're suddenly surrounded with panic and chaos. You are shaking in fear and you are losing sight of direction as the panic increases. Everyone around you is running around mindlessly. Some are screaming and you find yourself lost in the rush of bodies.

You're dizzy and it's a disorienting feeling. Swept up in the moving mass of people, you're carried against your will back into the ballroom. It baffles you about what's going on. What caused this moment of mass hysteria?

"It's inside the church!" A woman screams as she runs past you with enough speed to knock you back.

You catch your elbow on the wall and it causes you a great deal of pain. The pain fades and you're thankful that you hadn’t been knocked to the floor. You firmly believe that if it were the case you'd be trampled.

"What's happening?" You call out, but fear no one has heard you.

A man, whom you don't know, grabs you by the arm. He pulls you back and turns you to him. You can see fear in his eyes, the only visible part of his face behind a mask.

"The legend is true, Miss." He says and before he can continue, he's swept away from you in the same manner you'd been swept away in the panicked crowd.

Another roar can be heard, louder, and your heart is pumping blood so fast you fear you might pass out. You don't need to know what that man was going to say. You just know.

You know that you have no choice but to run. You aren't even sure if you have it in you but the fear is a strong motivator. You find your bearings and fight against the flow of people. As the mass crowd moves towards the front of the large ballroom, probably to shut out whatever it is that's out in the halls, you walk against it and head back to the foyer. You think if you can just make it to the front door, you can make your escape and chance it out in the forest.

It takes much too long but you find yourself outside the grand ballroom. You notice just how empty the foyer is. Just before the chaos took hold, the vast space was teeming with people. But now you find yourself completely alone. Not a single person remains. It’s eerie.

You make quick work of getting across the space and as you approach the door, something makes you stop. Over the loud thump of your heart you hear a sound like none other. It's vaguely familiar but you don’t wish to believe it. It's the sound of panting, the heavy breath of an animal- a large animal.

You are shaking violently with fear. You get the feeling that this is your end. You were too slow. There is no way you can make it through the doors. If you try, it would only be seconds before you were followed and torn to shreds. You don't know why you do it, but you turn around. Even as you are wholly consumed by fear, a stroke of twisted curiosity wants you to see what it is that will be your undoing.

Keeping close to the closed door, you turn your body and press it into the carved wood. You gasp louder than you ever recall gasping before. Standing not fifty feet away is a large wolf-like creature. It's thick fur is as black as night and it's large eyes glow a golden yellow. You don't look at its eyes long, your gaze drawn to its massive jaws. Rows of long, pointed teeth fill its mouth. It's drooling, foaming at the mouth. You watch its lips curl up in a snarl, and a growl deep enough to shake the stone walls can be heard coming from the vile creature.

It's easily the largest animal you've ever seen, dwarfing a true wolf exponentially. It's paws rival the large claws of a bear. It's head alone is probably more than half the size of your whole body. It's the most terrifying thing you have ever seen.

It growls at you, talking a step closer. It's posed to stalk, low to the floor like it's ready to leap towards you.

You scream out, closing your eyes against the inevitable. Your scream echoes throughout the mostly empty room. Shaking, you pray to a god you aren’t even sure you believe in but you feel hopeless.

The large creature suddenly howls out and you open your eyes just in time to see that someone, something, has come to your aid. It's one of the ghouls that Emeritus explained to you. It's captured the werewolf's attention momentarily.

"Run." It says, directly into your mind.

You scramble into action, turning to pull open the door. You hear the wolf roar out and screams echo inside your head. You don't stick around to see what pans out. You're out that door and barely notice the loud thunk as it closes behind you. You are in full flight mode, running down the church steps faster than you have ever run before.

Through the iron gates and into the woods you go, running as fast as your legs will carry you. It's no easy feat running in your heels. Your tight corset and slim fit skirts don't make it any easier. You run until the screams and howls fade away. You keep running until you feel a stitch in your side. The pain slows you down and eventually you stumble forwards, landing on the muddy ground beneath you.

The forest is dark, but you can see a little, thanks to the light of the full moon. Strange how the very thing that controls your problem at the moment is also your best ally. You stay down, panting and gasping for breath. You don't feel safe but you think that you might be for the moment.

You sit yourself up, leaning back to rest against the smooth bark of a young pine tree. It would seem strange to you, had you a clear mind; new growth was rare this deep into the wood, but truly nothing would surprise you ever again.

You look back on where you'd run from. The church is far off but you can still see the lights flicker behind all it's stained glass windows. You sigh deeply, thankful to have made it out alive. You worry about all those people and ghouls still trapped inside. You fear that many won't be so lucky.

You think of Emeritus and you hope that he's safe. You wonder if maybe his father dragging him from the Halloween festivities was enough to spare his life. You cry from relief and also because you're so convinced that you will never see him again. The very thought breaks your heart.

Then you wonder if maybe you might get the chance. He has your name and he knows where you're from. You feel a glimmer of hope that if he survives the night, survives the werewolf, he might seek you out.

While seated, you unlace your boots and kick them off. You know they were expensive, something you shouldn't just discard but you know that you'll cover more ground if you move barefoot through the woods. You bend your knees and work to tear your skirts. Months of sewing this Halloween costume is unraveling as you tear through the fabric. You know that it isn’t proper to wear a skirt so short but you believe that your getting to safety takes precedence over proper attire. You finally think to remove your mask, flinging it away. You want no reminders of this night. It started so well but turned into a nightmare.

You rise to your feet and unbutton the bodice of your dress. You unlace and discard the corset. You hate the thing anyway. Once it's gone, you button your dress top once more. You glance down, the edge of your skirt is ragged, tattered, and hanging just below your knees. You don't care. This will make your trek home easier. You peel off the pair of gloves and leave them in a pile.

With a final glance back at the church, you head in the direction of home. The need to run has passed for the moment. Still, you move quickly, knowing there are hours ahead of you before you reach your cozy cottage at the outer edge of the forest.

For two hours you keep a good pace, once finding the proper trail to follow. You begin to feel tired and it starts to slow you down.

The lack of any other person, on foot or by coach, leaves you with a sick feeling in your stomach. You had thought that at some point you might cross paths with other frightened guests leaving the church, especially once you found the pathway, but you remain completely alone. You again feel a deep worry about everyone and suspect that something terrible has happened.

You stop a moment, your feet ache and that stitch in your side returns. You believe that you can spare a few moments to rest, sitting down on the side of the road. You almost fall asleep.

A loud howl in the distance snaps you back to attention. It's a sound you won't ever forget. The call of the werewolf and it leaves you chilled. You hurry up onto your feet and start walking. Physically you're too tired to run but you move with haste. The howl seemed like it was a good distance away but knowing the sheer size of the creature, you know it can move fast, cover a lot of ground quickly.

Another hour passes and you remain on edge. You hear the wolf on several occasions but it never seems to get any closer. For that you are feeling very relieved.

After another hour, you think that the sun should be rising. You know that you're too far from the edge of the wood that you'd never catch the first rays. You do notice that the bright light of the moon begins to fade as it prepares to set for the day.

You're exhausted, your chest hurts, and your legs ache. You feel like you won't make the rest of the journey home. You want to stop, nap amongst the trees but it just isn't something that you can do. It's not safe.

The sound of an approaching wagon catches your attention. You turn to see it's headed your way, coming from the direction of the Emeritus Church. You stop walking and move to the edge of the path. Waving your arms out in front of you, you hope to catch the driver's attention.

They stop and you get up into the back. It feels nice to be seated and you look around you, at the other people piled into the back. No one comments on your state of dress. No one says anything about anything. Each person looks exhausted and terrified by what they saw. You can't imagine the horrors of what you left behind.

The sky becomes visible as the trees thin out. The pathway crosses a little clearing before the next thick band of trees. The sun has risen enough to light the Earth. You've never been so thankful for the dawn. Something catches your eye, something that shouldn't be out here in this part of the wood.

"Stop!" You shout towards the driver.

He pulls the reins and his horse slows to a stop. The wagon rolls a bit more before coming to a stop as well.

"I cannot wait for you Miss." The driver says.

"We're going with or without you. I will not wait." He explains.

"I understand." You say and jump down to the ground.

"You're crazy." Another passenger says but you ignore it.

You turn your back on the wagon and it takes off.

You know where you are. This clearing isn't more than a forty minute walk from your home. You feel rested enough from the break you caught on the wagon ride. You run towards what you saw that prompted your exit of the ride home.

As you approach what you suspected was a man lying along the bank of a small creek, you see that your suspicion was correct. You slow your run to a brisk jog, then a steady walk.

Laying on his front is a man, he looks badly injured and you hope he isn't dead. The closer you get, you notice that he is naked. You decide his well being takes precedence over his or your own modesty. He is in need of help and you were raised to help those in need.

Closer you creep and you can see he is breathing. He looks pretty banged up but you know he is alive. You are thankful for that.

"Hello." You say.

"Can you hear me?" You ask.

The man rolls onto his side. He grumbles in pain.

"I can." He says, a heavy tiredness to his voice.

You freeze. You recognize his voice. You heard it quite a bit the night before.

"Emeritus?" You say and it comes across like you're questioning what you're so sure of.

He sits up slowly. He groans uncomfortably and turns to look at you. He has a look of confusion on his face, like maybe he should know who you are but doesn't.

You ignore the fact he's naked, stepping closer to him and looking at his face. The disguise of his skull paint is gone. He is just as handsome as you had hoped, if you look past the large scratch across his cheek. You suspect that the injury is new. It's raw and red but it isn’t bleeding.

He looks older than you expected but it doesn’t upset you. He is completely bald, something you didn't catch as the last you saw him; he was wearing a mitre. It doesn't upset you either. His face is wrinkled by age, maybe stress, and his upper lip grows a mustache. You definitely think him quite handsome. You feel a skip in your heart beat.

He looks exhausted and rundown.

He is looking at your torn dress. You watch him piece together just what he was looking at. You did a great deal of damage to your costume but enough familiarity must have remained because you see the realization cross his face.

Emeritus looks up and into your eyes. The clarity grows and you are positive he knows that you are the masked woman he spent the night with before all Hell broke loose.

"It's you." He whispers in a moment of clarity.

He whispers your name as it comes back to him. His voice catches as if he’s in dire need of a drink. You think about helping him closer to the creek. The water runs clean enough for consumption.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" You ask.

"I don't actually know." He says and shakes his head, as if trying to make sense of it.

"Are you hurt?" He asks suddenly and really you think you should be asking him that question.

"I am okay." You say and get down on your knees at his side.

From this angle you notice that the scratch on his face isn't the only injury he has endured. His chest is heavily bruised and a deep cut runs from his pectoral down, then around to his lats.

You think it silly he wastes his time asking, seeing what a mess he appears to be himself. Injured and so far from home. Also naked, that confuses you most of all.

"It doesn't look like you are." You whisper, reaching out to touch his arm.

"If you think you can walk, I'd like to bring you home with me." You say, knowing there are things that you keep that will help his injuries.

"I will be fine." He says and though you're not entirely sure you agree, you believe him.

You change directions in topics.

"That man that took you away-" You start before he cuts you off.

"My father." He says, laying back down.

"He doesn't seem like a very nice man." You say.

"If you don't mind me saying that." You add, thinking maybe you shouldn't have commented.

"He was angry." Emeritus says.

"He had every right to be." He whispers.

You wonder what angered him, well clearly it was his son, but you wondered why. What had Emeritus done to deserve being shouted at and dragged away.

You get up onto your feet and bend to tear more of your skirt away. It shortens it well above your knees, taking the entire top layer with it, but you think that offering Emeritus the extra fabric will be a decent cover until you get him to your cottage. You have something he can dress in, often keeping some of your father's clothes to mend tears and patch thinning material.

"Here you go." You say, handing him the tattered cloth.

He looks at you strangely but thanks you just the same. He fastens it around his waist with a loose knot and tries to stand up. It doesn't go well and he falls back to the ground.

"Let me help you." You say and instantly grab his arm.

He doesn't protest and with a little struggle, you get him up onto his feet. He lets go of you and stands on his own. The confusion lining his face starts to worry you.

"You really don't know what you're doing out here, do you?" You ask.

You sound kind and not like you want to judge him.

"I do not." He whispers and sounds ashamed.

"Did you bump your head?" You ask, walking a circle around him to check for additional injuries you might have missed.

"I don't know." He says and it's gruff but not fully unkind.

"This has- nevermind." He starts but stops himself.

"Do you remember what happened at the church last night?" You ask, reaching to take his hand.

He lets you and you begin to lead him towards the water. You think a drink will help him before you begin the walk to your home.

"I remember you. I wouldn't forget you." He says.

"Beyond that, I don't know what happened." He whispers, so soft you almost miss it.

You suspect that his case of amnesia could be a result of his experienced fear. It's quite probable that the horrors of the werewolf being inside the church had his mind blocking out the details.

As you approach the creek, you help Emeritus down onto his knees. From the ground, he shoos you away from him before leaning towards the water. You step back and watch him drink plenty before he takes the time to splash his face in the cool water, probably to wake himself up.

"The werewolf got into the church." You say as he leans back, settling on his haunches.

"The what?" He snaps and the harsh tone makes you step back.

You believe that he has no idea. You wonder how he couldn't have noticed. It created quite the scene.

"After your father took you away, the werewolf was in the church. It was madness, complete chaos." You whisper.

"I, um, I saw it but I ran. I ran before I knew what fate the other people met. I was frightened, so very frightened."

"You got away." He whispers and while you see a deeply rooted concern in his eyes you pick up on relief too.

You know then that he cares about you.

"A ghoul." You say, voice cracking.

"It distracted the beast and it allowed me to run." You explain and are overcome by a worry about what fate that ghoul met.

"You don't know if it hurt anyone, do you?" Emeritus asks, getting back onto his feet.

You shake your head no. You suspect that many people have been hurt, possibly killed, but you don’t know for sure.

You can't help but look at him, seeing the body you felt beneath his robes as you danced. You feel yourself flush and avert your gaze. You were quite right thinking it was a nice body.

"I need to get back." He says.

"It's too far." You say.

"I'm taking you to my place so you can rest up and heal."

"I appreciate your offer." He says and he does sound grateful.

"But I'm going back to the church. I have to."

"I'm sorry but I'm not letting you go." You say, putting your foot down.

A little smile crosses his lips and it’s so much softer and nice to see without the face paint he wore the night before.

"You know of my beliefs in free will. You can't make me go." He says.

"But I am tired and it's a long way home for me. I will go with you if you insist."

"Good." You say but don't know what else to add.

"Once I'm rested, I'm leaving." He says and steps closer to you.

You see the pained expression with each step. He's hurting more than he's admitting to.

"Yes, of course." You say.

"I'd never keep you against your will, Emeritus. I only wish to help."

"How far is your home?" He asks.

"A mile and a half that way." You say and point east of where you stand.

"If you can keep a decent pace, it shouldn't be long." You explain.

"I thank you." He says and it sounds genuine.

"You may lean on me if it helps." You offer.

"It might." He says and puts his arm over your shoulder.

He feels cold, probably from being found naked in the early dawn. You don't worry, knowing that you can sit him by the fire and wrap him in a blanket once you get him inside.

When you two reach the trees, the clearing and creek behind you, you find that Emeritus is walking quite well. He's keeping pace and soon it's you that needs to speed up to stay in line with him. He still keeps his arm around your shoulder and you like the contact.

Conversation is left to a minimum, but you don’t really care for the quiet. You think that you want to ask him a couple questions, curious to know if he even has the answers.

"You spoke last night about this werewolf and you seemed so sure it existed." You begin.

"How did you know?" You ask.

"And now you tell me you have seen it." He says and his words are spoken coolly.

"You know that it exists. It should not matter how I knew. You know I was telling the truth. Please, drop the subject."

"Well, yes I know it exists, but I want to know if you've seen it too. Is seeing it what makes one believe?" You say.

"I have not seen it." He says in a way that makes you think he really doesn't want to continue this direction of conversation.

He told you just then as well as last night, it wasn't something he wanted to discuss. Still, you push him for more.

"Have you seen anything like it before?" You ask, turning to look up at him.

He stays with his eyes looking forward and you see in profile as his face falls. You've broken his will to keep quiet and you feel as if he will answer you truthfully.

"When I was a younger man, I saw such a creature." He says, and still won't look at you.

"Did it frighten you?" You ask.

"It frightened me." You whisper.

Emeritus stops walking and turns to look at you. His expression is serious but there is something else in his eyes that makes you think that he isn’t sure what to tell you.

"I've seen plenty of things in this world, things that are terribly frightening." He starts.

"Seeing the wolf was the most frightening of them all. Now I beg you, end this discussion. You don't want to go down this path." He says firmly.

He reaches for your arm. You step back, not letting him take it. You crunch your face, not sure if you agree with his statement or not. You feel a chill moving along your spine but don't think it has anything to do with the weather.

"I think I do." You say, challenging his words.

"What happened when you saw it?" You ask.

"I'm not having this discussion." He says and you realize you struck a nerve.

"Why?" You ask.

Emeritus huffs a loud sigh and he starts walking away.

"What do you keep from me?" You ask, speaking louder as he keeps walking further away.

He says nothing.

"What do you know?" You press.

Again, he ignores your question and keeps walking. At least he's headed in the right direction towards your cottage.

"Emeritus, answer me." You say and it’s nearly a shout.

"No." He snaps, shooting an angry look back at you but he keeps walking.

You drop it. You like him too much to upset him further. You quicken your steps to catch up.

"I'm sorry." You say.

He says nothing but slows down enough you can catch up with him.

The remainder of your walk is without discussion. It's awkward, maybe a little tense, but you know that it is your fault for pushing him. You feel guilty but don't let that feeling deter you from wanting to help him. Eventually, your small cottage comes into view. You're overcome with a sense of joy, thinking the night before you'd never see it again.

"There it is." You say, looking at Emeritus and hoping that he is still willing to talk to you.

"I see." He says and you can’t judge his attitude from the two words.

You lead him past your small fence into the yard. You bring him inside the small house and help him into a chair. He seems to appreciate being off his feet and you see him relax with a long sigh.

"I'll fetch you a blanket before I light the fire and I can make you some tea." You say.

He says nothing but nods in acknowledgement of your words.

You walk towards your bed and you pull up your warmest comforter. It's made from wool and stuffed with down. It was a gift from your parents the day you decided to move out on your own. It's the blanket you use all autumn and winter long because it keeps you so warm.

You return to Emeritus and wrap the blanket around his shoulders. You take the opportunity to hug him from behind as you do it and he seems to appreciate the embrace, leaning into you. He whispers a quiet thank you but says nothing else. His eyes close and he settles against the back of the chair, tugging the blanket more securely around him.

"Once the fire gets going, I will boil the water for tea." You explain, stepping back and coming around to the front of the chair.

"An herbal blend that should help with the pain." You say.

"Thank you." He says again, opening his eyes and you see his gratitude reflected in the mismatched pair.

You leave him to rest, going outside for just a moment to grab a few extra logs to drop into the fireplace. You aren’t gone long but it seems as if he’s fallen asleep sitting up. You don't wake him, understanding how tired he must be. You're tired yourself. It’s been a long and strange night.

You spend some time setting the fire, poking and prodding at the burning embers until they ignite into flames. It takes longer than it should, you think. You've always had the knowledge to get a good fire going, your parents insisted you learned early on. It was an important skill. It not only provides warmth, but light, and a source to cook from. It gave you access to warm water and the ability to clean water that might be dirty.

When you get back up onto your feet, you gently toss an additional log into the flames. You know that these will burn for a long few hours and you know that you'll need them too. You bend to wipe your hands clean against your skirt and you remember just how destroyed your dress had become.

Looking back at the resting man, you think there is time for you to quickly wash up with some cool water and change into something a little less revealing and a whole lot cleaner. You start by washing away the sweat, dirt and grime with a soft cloth you dip into your water supply. You know that you'd appreciate a bath but there isn't time. You head to your bedroom area and knowing that Emeritus is sleeping well in front of you, you strip out of your tattered clothes and into something new.

Dressed in a simple floor length skirt and a loose fitting top with laces on the front you head to your small kitchen. You fill a kettle with water from the storage barrel, and drop in an assortment of herbs you keep on hand. You set the kettle into the fireplace and wait as it heats up.

In the meantime, you return to the chair where Emeritus sleeps. You watch him quietly and you feel the warm heat inside you, the same heat you felt the night before. You truly believe he's quite handsome and you're reminded that despite his earlier cold and dismissive attitude, he was warm and kind beneath that. You let yourself admit that what attraction you feel towards him is something you want to explore. You wonder if after he's feeling better, he is still willing to teach you more about the church, more about giving into your desires. You are still willing to learn.

Enough time passes that you know the tea is ready. You carefully pull it from the hearth with help of a thick glove that protects you from being burned. You pour some of the tea into two clay mugs. They aren't fancy like the things back at his church but it's all you have and you aren’t ashamed of it. You add a dollop of honey to each. You carry one over and gently shake Emeritus awake with your free hand.

"Your tea is ready." You say softly.

Slowly, Emeritus opens his eyes and looks up at you. He appears groggy but doesn't seem to mind being woken up. He takes the mug from you and smiles with a soft appreciation.

"It's hot, so please be careful." You whisper, watching as he inhales the steam from the tea before taking a little sip.

Lowering the mug he meets your eyes.

"This is rather good." He says and seems surprised.

"It doesn't taste medicinal at all." He adds.

You smile and nod slightly.

"I add lavender and honey." You explain.

"It cuts down on the taste of the other herbs that do well with healing but taste terrible." You add with a laugh.

"It's good." He says again.

"Thank you." He smiles before taking another sip.

"You're welcome." You whisper and smile back.

As he drinks his tea, you leave yours sitting on your small kitchen table. You bring a bowl of warm water, with oils poured into it, and a soft cloth. You wipe away the sweat and dirt from Emeritus's face. You are careful around the scratch against his cheek. You clean him up best you can without unwrapping his blanket cover. It's more essential that he stays warm.

"Do you have anything I can eat?" He asks.

You think for a moment, knowing that you don't have much.

"Bread and butter." You reply.

"Cheese and a few eggs as well." You add.

"Anything will do." He says and smiles again.

You feel your heart flutter when he smiles.

"I will butter up some bread and add honey to start." You say.

"I can also heat you some water for a bath if you think it might help with your pain." You add as you think of it.

"That's very kind of you." He says.

Your cheeks flush and you nod your head.

"Just a minute." You whisper quickly and head back to the kitchen.

Your home is one open room. It's divided into areas but the small space isn't cut by any walls. You keep your back to Emeritus, as you pull bread from a basket and a slab of butter from the counter. You get the sense he's watching you but you're too nervous to look back.

"Do the events of last night change your mind about joining the church?" You hear him ask as you spread a pat of butter across a thick slice of bread.

"Will my answer sway your willingness to continue seeing me?" You ask.

"I should think not." He answers.

"I would enjoy seeing you again regardless of your choice to join us." He adds and you feel a sense of joy.

"I'm still interested." You say, not looking at him.

You reach for the jug of honey and drizzle it across the buttered bread.

"I am still willing to learn more about it." You say, dropping the bread onto a clean dish and carrying it to him.

"Thank you." He says kindly and takes the dish in one hand.

He lifts the bread with the other. He devours it like a man starved. You think that you should make another for him, and one for yourself. You need to replenish the energy wasted from your night of running.

"More?" You ask, looking back at the kitchen.

"Yes." He says.

"If it isn’t any trouble." He adds.

You turn back to look into his eyes. His face still looks tired but there is a bright intensity to his gaze that betrays the tired look.

"It's no trouble." You assure him, because it isn’t.

It's true you don't have much to offer but you are willing to share what you do have. In part, your giving and caring nature is all due to your upbringing, but the willingness to give him what he wants and needs is a direct result of knowing that he'd do the same for you.

"Let me start the water for your bath, and then I'll get some more bread." You say and you have an urge to lean in to kiss him, but your sudden nervous feeling stops you.

"You're truly a kind and generous woman." Emeritus says and his words once again flush your cheeks.

"Thank you." You whisper and hurry away.

Your bath is situated between your fireplace and the kitchen. The water inside is separated from your drinking and cooking supply. It is a batch that is fresh, not yet used. You know that you don't get fresh all that often but you're willing to let him use it. You take the time needed to set it heating and know it takes a while to warm. Once it's going, you return to the kitchen counter and fix up a plate with six slices of bread, with butter and honey. You grab your tea and carry it over with the bread.

"I thought we might share." You say, setting the plate down on the small table beside the chair.

The table is holding up a small oil lamp that isn't lit. There's no reason to light it as the sun lights the home well during the day. Your little cottage has many windows and your curtains are white, light and airy. You rely on natural light most of the time, taking advantage while you can.

"I'd expect you to eat as well." Emeritus says and leans to pick up a piece of bread.

He eats this one more slowly.

You sit yourself in the second chair. It is on the other side of the small table. You reach out to put your mug down and for a piece of the bread. You take a bite. It reminds you that you're really quite hungry. It isn’t long before you nab a second piece.

"Do many people belong to your church?" You ask, relaxing in your chair and crossing your legs at the ankle.

You're too tired to sit up straight and proper. You are understanding that Emeritus would not mind the lax behavior.

"We have maybe one hundred members." He says, turning to better face you.

"Thirty six of which are clergy, including our ghouls." He adds.

He appears more relaxed and in less pain. You look at him and you think it's impossible, but the scratch on his face has seemed to fade significantly. It baffles you. Your medicinal tea is powerful but this seems too good to be true. The things you've experienced in the last twelve hours has you thinking it's some kind of magic. You don't say anything though.

"I will make the assumption you understand that Satanism isn't all that appealing to the people in the area." He continues on, drawing you from your thoughts.

"You assume correctly." You say.

"But why build your church here then?" You ask, wondering if he's going to answer.

"Why chose to build your villages here?" He says in means of replying; his voice has a slight edge.

"Our church has been here much longer than most of you assume." He adds.

"How long?" You ask.

"Over one thousand years." He replies.

"It has changed considerably, many times over the course of time, but it's location has remained the same. When it was first built, it was small, no larger than this home of yours. As the construction technologies advanced, so did we. The large church building you know was built in the 1300s. We have chosen this place with great care. It was picked on no whim. We need this location." He explains.

"Will you tell me the reason why your people chose it?" You ask, already knowing more about the Emeritus Church than most people with just these little morsels of information.

"In time, you can learn." He says.

"Why do you keep yourselves so guarded, so secretive?" You ask next.

"Because no one takes the time to ask." He replies.

"I've told you, we're welcoming to anyone willing, but not too many people are."

"I've asked." You say.

"I'm willing, you know I've told you."

Emeritus nods and moves to pick up a third bread slice.

"And you will have your answers when the time is right." He says.

It's enough for now, you think.

You sit quietly, enjoying the last of the small meal of buttered bread. You remember your tea. It's cooler but still warm. You enjoy one another, in silence. The awkward quiet after the disagreement outside is seemingly forgotten.

"Your bath should be ready." You say, climbing to your feet to clear away the empty dish and check the temperature of the tub.

"Yes, this is nice and warm." You say, skimming your fingers through the water.

You drop in a few pleasant smelling oils and seek out a bar of honey soap to sit on the ledge.

"I'll be right over." He says and you watch as he struggles to stand.

He does so unassisted, but his body is slow and you know he still aches. You think that the bath will help him. He takes the blanket from his shoulders and folds it up neatly, setting it on the chair. You find it nice that he did but hadn't expected it.

As he walks, you see his chest looks less bruised. The marks faded like the one on his face. Emeritus walks closer and stands beside you and the tub.

It isn’t too large nor extravagant. You assume he's used to something finer but he doesn’t say anything negative.

"Do you need help getting in?" You ask, knowing that the sides are quite high.

"I should manage just fine." He answers, working the loose knot of the torn fabric around his waist open.

Keeping to your typical modest way, you look away, give him a little privacy.

"You don't have to turn away." He says and you turn to see he is standing quite close to you now.

"I feel no shame, and you shouldn't either." He whispers, bringing his hand to your face.

He gently tilts your head up and he looks into your eyes. You let go of a breath as you gaze back into his.

"The human body is nothing to shy away from." He says, running his thumb across your lips.

You nod, as you don't trust your abilities to speak. You feel a glimmer of boldness and kiss his thumb before he pulls his hand away.

"Would you consider joining me?" He asks and you see his eyes flash.

"In the bath?" You ask and feel a sudden flush over your entire body.

"Yes." He whispers, moving his hands to sit at your waist.

You close your eyes a moment, trying to figure out just what you want. You remember his words from the night before. Give into your desires, get pleasure from life.

"Okay." You whisper, looking right into his eyes once you open yours.

He smiles and his eyes widen with a sense of excitement. Suddenly, he's dropped his gaze down, looking at your chest. It's well covered by your top.

"May I?" He asks, reaching to touch you.

"Yes." You whisper.

You look downward at the press of his hand at your chest. His fingers reach for the lacing on the front of your top. He pulls the strings loose and the fabric falls open. It still covers most of you but flashes enough skin you think you should feel ashamed or embarrassed. You don't.

Emeritus steps back, dropping his hands from you. He climbs into the tub but doesn't yet sit down. The edge of the deep basin comes to mid thigh so you have a clear view of his naked body.

It isn’t the same as when you saw him naked in the clearing that morning. The urgency to get him help isn't there. You take your time to look him up and down. You appreciate the sight before you and your heart starts to beat faster, the whole body warmth of the night before returning quickly. You feel a tingle in your lower belly.

He is not the first man you've seen naked, however, he is the first man you've seen naked in a setting like this, a setting that exists for pleasure.

"Strip." He says to you.

It's commanding but not demanding. You like the way he says it. You find that you quickly lose the nerves that threatened to delay this.

The water in the tub sloshes around as Emeritus sits, sinking down to get comfortable with his back against the narrow side.

You part the sides of your top and slide the sleeves down your arms. The garment falls to the floor. You kick it aside, away from the tub's heat source. You are shivering but it's not from being cold. The fire you lit has warmed the cottage very well. You don't believe it's nerves either.

Your skirt is quickly removed, leaving you naked, just standing there outside the tub. You are all too aware of his eyes on you, looking as you had looked at him. You see his pupils dilate and his lips curl up at the edges of his mouth. You feel flush and also don't think it's nerves. You're excited about what is happening and what it might lead to.

"You are positively a delight to look at." Emeritus says and it brings your eyes to his.

"A pleasure to see the outside matches the inside."

You smile and your gaze shifts slightly. You've been called things like stunning or beautiful, but this is the first instance that you believe the compliment. It warms you to know he thinks you're a pleasant person beyond your looks too.

"I don't quite understand how we will both fit." You whisper, as if it just occurred to you.

The tub basin is deep but it isn’t very wide. You step closer to the edge and look down into the water. It's so clear, there is nothing you can't see of him. You feel a tightness in your lower belly, seeing him like this.

"You may sit in my lap." He says, lifting his hand above the water to offer it to you.

"If that is something you are comfortable with." He adds and you smile.

"I am comfortable with that." You say, taking his hand and using him for leverage to climb in.

"Should I face you, or put my back to you?" You ask, swinging your second leg over the side.

You're standing in a straddle over his legs and the space is so narrow you feel a little off balance, even as you have a firm hold on his hand.

"Face away." He says, in a way you suspect he knows what will work best.

You nod and turn around before you sit yourself down. The water is warm, feels nice on your skin. The press of his thighs against yours feels nicer. The feeling doesn't last too long; you know some shifting around is in order. You press your legs together, to rest inside his, that press to the edges of the basin. You settle against his belly and chest, with your bottom flat on the tub floor. His knees bend slightly, framing you in. You relax as his arms circle around your middle.

"This is okay?" He asks.

It is and you appreciate his asking. He's comfortable to sit against and you sigh, happy.

"Yes, Emeritus." You sigh, feeling very okay.

"Is this alright for you as well?" You ask, with your eyes closed and your head resting on his shoulder.

"It is alright, yes." He whispers, using one hand to softly trace around your middle, under the surface of the water.

The two of you spend some time sitting there, enjoying the warmth of the water and the comfort of where your bodies touch. It is Emeritus that reaches for the honey soap and you are surprised but happily as he starts to wash over your skin. You really appreciate the soft touch and care. It soothes the aching muscles inside you, only starting to bother you once the adrenaline from last night begins to wear away. You'd been so consumed with making sure he was okay that you hadn’t noticed the toll your run through the forest had on you. You close your eyes and relax as he cleans your body and sets the soap onto the ledge once again. You feel so good, you never noticed he gave himself a quick wash too, but the scent of honey on his skin is extremely pleasant to your nose and it tells you that he too is nice and clean.

Your relaxed state gives your body the chance to really feel how good you feel. You can still sense the arousal but maybe it isn’t so prominent for the moment. A dull but nice buzz that radiates from within you. You feel comfortable enough to fall asleep, not having the chance to nap like he had. Your willingness to make use of your time with him keeps you from dozing off.

Emeritus shifts his body closer to you. You can feel his cock pressing to the small of your back. His hand sits low on your belly, ever so lightly petting the skin close to your center but not close enough, you think. It sets your mind on a new path of thoughts. You don't wish to keep relaxing. You'd like to explore more pleasurable activities.

"Would it be alright if I kiss you again?" He asks, moving his other arm up your torso to gently cup your chin.

You want nothing more than to continue what was started, so you know you will answer positively. The burn inside your belly is reminiscent of the feelings you had awoken the night before. You sit forward just enough for him to turn your head towards him.

"Yes." You sigh, as he tilts your face up.

"Please do." You whisper with a smile.

You shift slightly, to make the angle better, easier to achieve what you both want. Your eyes slip closed as you feel his lips slide across yours. He's slow and steady but you immediately want more. You kiss him harder, parting his lips with your tongue.

It is just as the night before, good feelings and pleasant thoughts. He kisses you so wonderfully and you deeply enjoy this.

You reach up and back with one arm, hooking it around his neck. You hold his lips against yours and you moan into his mouth. Emeritus sucks gently at your tongue, moving it with his and he moans into you. His hand glides down from your chin, smoothly over your neck and the light touch makes you shiver. The water, gently rippling around you.

You press your hand against the back of his, stilling the swirling motion as he traces along your belly. You push his arm downward, guiding it to where you want it, spreading your legs a little bit. You feel very comfortable with this, without the layers of clothes between you. You worried about feeling too odd, too forbidden, but you're pleasantly surprised by how natural it feels to let go and give in.

"Touch me again." You murmur into his lips.

His hand settles between your legs, just cupped over your sex, as he'd done the night before. You shiver, surprised by just how much better it feels without your skirts and his gloves as a barrier. You never realized just how sensitive you were down there.

"Move your fingers." You whisper, turning your neck to bury your face against his.

You mouth at his neck, can't quite get yourself to kiss him properly.

Emeritus starts slow, petting over you with three of his fingers. You can feel the brush of his thumb and pinky finger against the top most part of your inner thighs. It tickles and you squirm in your place between his legs. He keeps the slow pace but adds more pressure. You feel your sex throb and a heat spread through your lower belly. You moan quietly.

"Good?" He asks, his lips moving through your hair.

"Yes." You whisper against his neck.

"Yes, very good." You say and know that it's enjoyable.

You gasp, voice catching in your throat when you feel him slide two of his fingers up, running them between the outer lips. He strokes through your slick folds, bringing about new feelings to you. You shiver involuntarily, spreading your legs even more.

"You feel so good to me." He whispers, moving his lips along your neck.

"So soft, so wet. I imagine you taste delicious" His words make you blush.

He starts to kiss the skin where your neck meets your shoulder, as he increases the speed in which he works his fingers. You moan again, the sound low and soft.

"Can I touch you?" You ask in a whisper, already moving your arm back, much too excited by everything.

The approach is not perfect, from how you two sit in the tub but you're determined to make it work.

"Please." Emeritus says.

You close your fingers around his cock. He is fully aroused, cock hard and firm in your grasp. It's smooth and warm against your palm. It has a decent weight and thickness to it, you think, but truly don't have anything to compare it too. You'd never before touched a man like this, and never seen a cock erect or imagined one so big.

Emeritus moans and the sound is deep. You start to move your hand, stroking up and down his length. It makes him moan again.

"Oh!" You gasp in surprise.

His fingers are circling around your clit, and the pleasure it brings you is fantastic and maybe more than you're prepared for. He keeps going, and you think you can see stars. Your leg kicks, splashing the water around you. He slows but doesn't stop and you lean back into him. Your strokes on his cock stop as your own pleasure leaves you distracted.

"Will you let me turn you around?" He asks, voice barely more than a whisper.

"Not to stop?" You whisper in reply, sounding desperate.

You're much too into this to want it to end.

"No, my dear." He says, pulling his hand from your sex and setting it on your hip.

His other hand is already at your other hip. He gives both a squeeze.

"This will make things easier. We won't stop until you ask me to stop." He assures you.

You nod. You don't plan on asking.

With his guidance, you get up onto your knees. The space is limited but there's enough room to turn around, looking into his eyes. He helps you to sit back down. You feel his legs supporting your bottom, resting your weight against them. You set your hands over his shoulders, not far off his neck. You are breathing heavily, still from his prior touch.

He is looking at your face and you look back at him. You lean forward, pushing your mouth to his. You kiss him, liking this position better than how you two sat before. The angle puts less strain on your neck and you whimper as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth and bites down. It's not hard enough to hurt but you know he does it. You shiver and find it to your liking.

You want him to touch you, finger your clit and make your arousal build, but you're not sure how to word specifics.

"Can you touch me, like before?" You whisper, pulling back enough to get the words out.

Emeritus releases your hips and one hand goes down between your legs, picking up the teasing right where he left off. You shiver and let your eyes close. His other hand smooths up your back until he reaches your head. He guides your lips back to his and kisses you, with plenty of tongue. You're not about to complain.

You groan obscenely into his mouth, feeling him slide two of his fingers back and up into your sex. He gives them a few soft thrusts and your muscles clench around them. You break the kiss as your back bends away from him, grinding against his fingers.

You don't feel steady enough to let go of his shoulders but you don’t want to leave him without such pleasure. You lift one arm, bringing it down between your bodies, grasping his cock firmly. You squeeze it before you start to stroke with the same rhythm as his fingers slip inside you.

"This is okay?" You ask quietly.

You're slightly nervous that you're not skilled enough for this. You believe that he is and you don't want to disappoint.

"Hmm." He hums in an affirmative way, starting to rock his hips off the base of the tub.

You lean forward, pressing your forehead to his. You can't yet open your eyes, the pleasure is too much still. You feel his unoccupied hand move up your body, leaving zaps of pleasure in its wake. You moan as he cups one of your breasts, flicking a nipple with his thumb. Your hips jerk at the sensation and you catch him laughing.

"You mock me." You sigh, opening your eyes.

You find his eyes are open too, looking at your face.

"Am not." He whispers.

"Just enjoying myself." He says, tilting his head to brush his lips across yours.

Emeritus pinches a nipple at the same time he curls his fingers inside you.

"Oh fuck." You whisper, feeling strange in saying it.

You don't curse much in life. You don't mind that he's made you. It feels too good for concern with your foul language. You begin to think that you're going to be cursing more often.

"You want to?" He asks, pressing his fingers against your inner wall.

You groan in pleasure, eyes fluttering.

"Yes." You say.

"Fuck me, Emeritus." You whisper, looking right into his eyes.

"Kneel up." He whispers, pulling his fingers from you.

You whine at the loss but are eager for what you know will replace them. You slide your knees outward, pressing them to the edges of the basin to straddle high over his lap. You pull your hand off his cock, to hold yourself up by curling the fingers of both hands around the tub ledges.

Emeritus leans forward, kissing you just below your breasts. You sigh and lift one hand to cup his cheek. You guide him to look up at you.

"Will this hurt?" You ask, a flicker of worry creases your brow.

People talk and without the experience to fall back on, you rely on the stories you have heard.

"No." He whispers, moving his hands up and down your torso.

"Forget what things you might have heard. This should feel good. You tell me if it doesn't and I'll make sure it does, if you wish to continue." He says.

"I'll tell you." You whisper, planning to stick to that.

"Would you prefer we take this to the bed?" He asks, running his thumb along your jaw.

"No. I'd like to stay here." You say, much too excited to delay this further.

"We will take this slow, at your pace." He says and it's comforting to know.

You nod before leaning down to kiss him. It's slow and steady. You don't feel nervous about what is happening. You want him, you have wanted him since the night before.

Emeritus takes hold of his cock with one hand. He strokes himself a few times, you can hear the slosh of water between you. His other hand rests against your chest, fingers brushing the base of your throat.

"Tell me when you want me." He whispers, voice breathy.

"Now." You whisper back.

"I'm ready to feel you inside me." You say, lowering yourself back towards his lap.

You keep your eyes wide open, looking at him as you wait.

His hand drops to your hip and he keeps you steady as he guides his cock to your sex. You feel his tip glide against your lower lips and it makes your belly flutter. True to his word, he takes things slow. He pushes into you and your eyes flutter closed. He was correct in saying it didn't hurt but there is some pressure, his cock is larger than his fingers.

You let yourself sink down onto him, taking him all the way in. You feel yourself stretch to accommodate his size, you feel, well, you don't quite know yet how to describe it. You need a moment to adjust to this, but you already know that it's not something unpleasant like you've heard from some people in passing.

"Open your eyes." He whispers.

You are slow to do so, but you open your eyes. He's looking at you and you see a deep adoration in his mismatched eyes. You feel he is trembling under you and you just get it. You're trembling too, and it’s entirely driven by your arousal.

"How does this feel?" He asks, holding onto your waist on both sides.

"Good. It feels good. Oh my goodness, Emeritus, you're cock is so big." You say, nodding.

"Move." You whisper, rolling your hips.

His head tilts back and he moans quietly at your action. You appreciate his reaction. You feel his hold on you tighten and he pulls back before snapping his hips back up. Your whole body shudders and you groan quietly.

"Again." You whisper, feeling as if you'll fail to keep eye contact.

He does it again and you moan, the sound deep. He does it again, without prompt and your eyes clamp shut, feelings of heat moving through you, starting where your bodies join. He does it again, and soon you start to move with him. Each thrust of his is matched by a roll of your hips. You set a good pace, finding the pleasure builds up over time.

You feel you can open your eyes, looking at him. His eyes have closed and his brows are scrunched in concentration. You set your hands over his chest, pressing into his pectorals, keeping your balance as you grind against him.

You curl your fingers and scratch down his chest. You don't know why you chose to do it, but as his cock pulses inside you, you know he likes it.

The pace picks up, the water splashing around you both. You slump against him, pressing frenzied kisses along his neck and across his chest. He moans in appreciation, slowing his thrusts.

You shiver and purposefully squeeze your muscles around his cock. The sound he makes lets you know he enjoys it, so you do it again.

You feel his mouth at your breast and gasp as he sucks a nipple between his lips. He flicks his tongue rapidly over it and you feel it drive you into deeper pleasure.

He grips your hips with a bruising strength and he starts bucking up into your center with more power. Your loud cries of pleasure fill the small cottage, and you have never been more thankful to live so far from others in the village.

"Emeritus." You whine, feeling your legs start to shake.

You feel the building pleasure, greater and greater it becomes. You feel a tightness in your belly, like something is going to burst inside you. It's mildly confusing but you don’t wish it to stop.

His thrusts are hard, slamming into you again and again. He is making loud groans and labored grunts as he works his hips with such drive. Your own sounds match his in volume, both of you heard easily over the splashing water. You aren’t even thinking about the mess you're creating.

Your breath catches and you feel the moment you reach your peak. Your body stops moving against him, muscles tensing and you cry out as your mind blanks momentarily.

Your clenching inner muscles give him the push he needs. His well timed thrusts falter and he loses control for a moment. His body goes rigid and you can feel his cock twitch and pulse. Emeritus cums with a growl, thrusting as he spills his release deep inside you.

You feel a wave of exhaustion quickly set in as you twitch and moan through little aftershocks of pleasure. You fall against Emeritus and he closes his arms around you. You stay in this awkward embrace, both panting heavily.

You have no concept of the passing time. You only seem to come around when you feel him slip out and turn you around to rest with your back against his chest. You relax, stretching your legs as best you can. His head is over your shoulder. You can feel his warm breath against the side of your face.

You both don't speak a word but it's not unpleasant and it's just nice to lay in his arms as you are. You can't help but smile sleepily.

The water has cooled to the point it's becoming uncomfortable to stay inside the tub. It is just the push you need to rouse from your relaxed and sated state. You still feel fuzzy inside, a direct result of him bringing you to orgasm.

You turn to look back at him and see a sated look on his face as well. It makes you smile bigger, all lopsided and giddy. You feel proud that you helped him to his own orgasm.

You stay low in the water, but roll onto your front. You rest your chin on his chest and can still feel how hard his heart is thumping. You feel your own do the same. It was a thrilling experience.

"Will you take me to bed, before you must go?" You whisper, kissing slowly along his chest, just under his collarbone.

"You want another go?" He asks and sounds interested.

You feel his hand at the small of your back. His other resting at the nape of your neck.

"I would." You reply, pressing your lips against his sternum.

"I would enjoy that very much." He whispers into your hair before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You turn your face up, and reach to pull him in for a few minutes of sweet kisses. You let one kiss linger before you pull back.

"You are amazing." He says to you.

You feel your cheeks flush again.

"I could say the same thing about you." You whisper.

"You should." He says and it's with such confidence.

You laugh quietly and lean to kiss the tip of his nose.

"The water has gone cold." You say, speaking the obvious.

"It's uncomfortable." You whisper.

"Let me take you to bed." He whispers.

"Warm you right back up."

You can't agree more.

Emeritus pushes you lightly to sit back. He climbs up to his feet and helps you onto yours. He kisses you, pulling you close. You can feel his cock, already half hard again, nudging your belly.

"Yes, let's do this one more time." You whisper, lightly wrapping his cock with your fist.

You're rather looking forward to more sex, having discovered that it feels so nice.

Emeritus nods at your words. He moans deeply at your touch and rocks into your hand. You continue to kiss, it's slow and you think, terribly romantic. You continue to stroke him, he continually rocks hips. You like the lustful look in his eyes, the way he bites his lip to stop from groaning out. You can't stop yourself from looking at him, not as long as he keeps looking at you as he does.

You want to ask if it's okay to join him when he returns to the church, but not yet. Being with him, makes you question your years of denying someone the chance to share your life. You have grown tired of the solitary days in your little cottage. You don't want anyone else but Emeritus. You are certain of that.

"Take me to bed." You whisper.

"Make me yours." It's a desperate plea.

"I'd want nothing more." He says, before pulling back from your face.

You look up at him and you smile. There is still a lingering daze in your expression. You feel giddy and so newly full of life. You like that he can make you feel this way. You'd never thought it possible.

You see that the scratch that was upon his cheek is no longer there. You reach up and trace down the line where it should still be.

"How?" You whisper, hoping he will answer.

"I heal quickly." He whispers, taking your hand off his cheek and pressing a kiss to your fingertips.

"I can see that." You say and the sense of wonder is easily heard.

"Do you draw the power to do so from Hell? Some kind of magic?" You ask.

"Something like that." He replies, kissing your wrist.

He does not elaborate.

"You told me that you aren’t a ghoul, are you some other creature of Hell?" You ask.

You don't know what he will say, if he will say anything. You already know that you've fallen for him, so learning if he is not of this world will not lessen your feelings. They are much too strong.

"I was born in the church. I grew up there and have lived my whole life there. I am of this world." He says, lowering your arm to your side.

You get the feeling that while he's being truthful, he's leaving something out.

Emeritus climbs out of the tub and helps you to do the same. He stands there, saying nothing as you walk a short distance to grab two towels from a wooden shelf. You'd like it if you both might dry off before falling into bed.

He thanks you for the towel but goes back to saying nothing.

You dry your skin of bathwater and watch as he does the same. You see his other injury has also faded away, completely healed. You are overcome with a sense of pure awe about this and you are going to say something when a different mark on his skin catches your attention.

It's big, looks old, scarred, and you can tell that it isn't something new. It's unlikely he received it the night before. It's jagged lines marr the skin just over the swell of his backside. It's location, opposite of where his more prominent injury was, makes you understand why it had been so easily missed before you see it now. You are curious why this mark is there, why it hasn't faded like the others. The longer you look, the more you come to realize just what could have left such a thing.

"Emeritus." You say and your voice is shaking, out of your control.

He turns around to face you and hums inquisitively. He is looking right at you.

"What's that on your back?" You ask, touching yourself in the same spot he has the scar.

His gaze drops to the floor and you hear a loud sigh pass through his nose.

"It's nothing." He whispers, and keeps on drying himself off.

His reply sparks a little anger in you. So often people would assume you were naive, and in some aspects you are, but you're not stupid.

"It isn't nothing." You say and the tone in your voice strengthens.

You've had enough of his constant dismissals of your questions, the ones that all seemed to connect in your mind.

"I want you to answer this question for me Emeritus." You say and the waver returns to your voice.

"If you won't, I will ask you to leave." You say and maybe it's a threat.

It kills you to say it but you need answers. You don't want to make him leave you, knowing what he's come to mean to you in the short time since you've met.

All the little pieces were coming together inside your mind. You think you have it figured out but you need to know for sure. There is a fear growing inside you, but maybe it's not over the topic that should be causing it. You fear losing him. You don't fear what you believe you've pieced together.

"What do you want me to answer?" He asks.

"The wolf, it's you isn't it?" You say and you keep steady, keep your eyes on his and your voice level.

Emeritus doesn't break eye contact, holding your attention. His expression is blank, unreadable. He doesn't immediately answer you.

"You think I'm stupid." You say and you step back.

It's your anger about his silence that caused the move. You're not afraid that he'll say yes.

It just all makes sense to you now. He claims to know the creature exists but he says he's never seen it. You know that he's seen one like it before, but won't talk about what happened. The werewolf appeared within the church, just after midnight, shortly after he was taken away from you. He has no memory of the night's events after leaving your side. His ability to heal wounds is something you see as unnatural. And finally, the missing piece that tied this all up, the scar on his back looks very much like a bite; a bite from a large animal.

"I don't believe you are stupid." Emeritus says, finally breaking the long silence but still avoiding the one question you want answered.

"You're not stupid." He whispers.

"Then why won't you just answer me?" You ask.

"Do you not trust me?" You whisper.

"I trust you." He says, taking a step closer to you.

You stand there, make no move to get away. You look at him.

"Trust me enough to tell me the truth?" You wonder.

"Tell me if I'm right or wrong." Your voice is shaking again.

"Tell me I've figured this out, or tell me I'm way off target but explain to me what you know."

He steps closer again, close enough to touch you if he wants. He doesn't touch you, nor does he say anything. He stares into your eyes until he closes his own.

"I have nothing to explain." He whispers and you watch his shoulders sink and his head hang low.

His words could mean that he will leave and you never see him again. But you don’t take it that way.

You believe that it is his way of telling you that you've figured him out, without confirming it. You wish he’d just tell you, right out, but you didn't take into consideration just how hard it must be to admit it at first. It can't be easy admitting that you transform into a wild beast by the light of the moon. You consider it now. You have a feeling that he thinks you're about to send him away forever.

"Then I am right." You whisper.

A shiver runs up your spine but you are very receptive that your feelings for him haven't changed. You still think you might love him.

"It was during the summer months of 1793. There was an argument between myself, my older brother, and our father. I don't even remember what about anymore, just know it wasn't worth the trouble now." He says quietly.

"I walked out. It was after midnight. I just wanted some air, thought it okay to walk to clear my head." He continues and you can hear the emotional crack of his voice, see the tears welling in his eyes.

"My mother, she came looking for me. I'd been gone too long." He stops, you know this isn't easy on him.

"The wolf came out of nowhere. He found me in the forest, a mile from the church." He says after a long pause.

"It came at me and I couldn't run. I just froze and I had no control over what was going to happen. I told myself that it was over. I resigned myself to prepare for death. It charged me, covering ground faster than anything I had seen before, or since."

Again he stops. You don't push, worrying that if you do he'll close up again. You can work out what happened next but you wait to hear it from him.

"Something inside me snapped to attention. I didn't want to die, so I ran, but I wasn't fast enough. The wolf caught up, grabbed me in it's jaws and the pain of its bite was the worst thing I'd experienced in my life that far." Emeritus says.

"The scar you see was left behind. It's the only injury that I have that has never fully healed. It stays on me, a reminder of what happened, as if the monthly transformation isn't enough."

Through his recollection, he sounds utterly defeated and ashamed of the monster inside him, of his past mistakes.

"You survived the bite." You whisper.

"Why didn't it kill you?" You ask but doubt he would have an answer.

"I don't know." He whispers.

"I've only made the assumption that in biting me, the power was transferred before I could die. I must have changed before I could bleed out."

"And in doing so, the other wolf left?" You ask, you don't know how this works.

"Left? Died? I don't know." He whispers.

"I only know that it hasn't been seen in these woods since."

You stand there, letting this all sink in. It's a lot to process and you feel like you won't do so easily. What does come easy, is your will to stay. You don't want to run from him. You don’t feel like sending him away.

"What of your mother?" You ask after a moment.

"You mentioned she went after you."

The look in his eyes is answer enough so when he says something, you're not prepared.

"We never saw her again." He whispers.

"I don't know what happened to her."

Your heart aches for his loss.

"Do you think that the other wolf killed her?" You whisper.

"It is possible." He says.

"It is also possible that I could have done so myself, but there is no way of knowing. I can't recall what things I do when my mind is overpowered by the werewolf. I don't want to know. This thing that I've become is hard enough to deal with without the added thoughts of taking my own mother's life." His voice cracks and it looks like he's struggling to stand up right, when his body wants to collapse.

"It wasn't you." You whisper to him.

"It's the awful thing inside you." You try to sound encouraging but this whole situation isn't something that can be viewed positively.

"I don't know what I may be responsible for." He whispers.

"It's not you that is responsible, Emeritus." You say.

You want to reach for him, hold him. You are scared. Not of him, but that he might run if you try.

Emeritus drops to his knees right in front of you.

"Please, no one can know." He says, turning his head up to you.

"No one must ever know what I am." He is very serious.

His cheeks are wet with tears, eyes puffy and red, and his expression is one of a wildly desperate man. He looks frightened but you don’t know if it's because he thinks you will tell his secrets or because he thinks you're going to throw him out.

Seeing the wolf the night before was the most terrifying moment of your life. Being so close to death, you never wish to be in that position again. You've learned that he too knows that exact same fear of being face to face with a werewolf. Only he wasn't as lucky as you. You got away.

But on the other hand, you know how Emeritus is as a man. He'd never hurt you. You believe that with every ounce of your being. You feel deeply for him. You trust him, when he isn’t his monster. You trust that he would ensure your safety on the night of the full moon.

You do not dream of throwing him out; you have him back after you thought you'd lost him. You thought last night that the wolf might have taken him. You were off by thirty seven years.

"I won't tell a soul." You whisper, a promise to him.

"Thank you." He cries and just falls forward and hugs you around the legs.

"And I want you to stay." You whisper, reaching to run your hand over the back of his head.

"I think I need you in my life. I want to go back to the church with you. I want to stay with you, Emeritus, be with you." You say.

He calms at your words, and the soothing pets you trail over his head and neck.

"Even though you know what it is that I become?" He asks quietly, turning to look up at you.

"I'm a monster." He says, as if reminding you of that fact.

You need no reminders and it doesn't sway your feelings.

"I know that I am falling for the man that you are, when your mind is your own. The wolf is the monster. The man, however, isn’t a monster; he's the keeper of my heart." You whisper, dragging your hand to his chin, keeping his face tilting up to you.

"Not falling, but fallen." You add, correcting your original statement and smiling softly as your heart flutters.

He looks at you and nods his head. There is a deep relief that washes over his features. In his eyes you can see, for sure, that he too has fallen for you.

You bend down, resting on your knees. You spend a moment wiping his tears. You press a kiss to the bridge of his nose before leaning back. You look into his eyes, hoping he recognizes the love and trust you feel for him. You see a matched love in his eyes and you pull him closer, wrapping his body up in a tight hug.

"Take me to bed now, Emeritus." You say, moving your lips over his ear.

"Then you can take me home." You say, pulling back to smile at him.

He gets back up on his feet, grabbing you gently by the sides of the face. He looks hard into your eyes, like he's trying to see if your words are true.

"You truly desire to be with me?" He asks and the uncertainty in his voice makes you feel sad.

"More than anything." You whisper, taking his hands and getting back on your feet.

"Come." You whisper, leading him to your bed.


	3. All of Your Imaginations Are Now Running Down Your Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Features Papa Emeritus III, set Halloween 2015

The ritual ended over two hours ago. The energy it left you with still lingers. You're feeling excitement and a rush that shows no signs of stopping. There is a slight level of impatience creeping in but it isn't something that you can't handle. This is an all too familiar feeling. You have a slight advantage to beating the post-ritual slump, but it isn’t an immediate fix. You do have to do your waiting around.

Once you leave the venue, you don't stray far. Las Vegas House of Blues is a venue that is set within one of the city's large casinos; a casino that might not be your favorite but you know the ins and outs. You’ve spent plenty of time here, as you’ve been coming to the music venue since it opened.

You distance yourself from the decent sized crowd that stays huddled by the entryway, each person awaiting the chance to catch a glimpse of Papa or one of his ghouls off stage. It's a sight that is to be expected after a performance such as Ghost's and you can’t really be upset about the crowd. You yourself have stood outside many a show, hoping for more, that little extra slice of happiness to your life. There is never any guarantee that one might run into Papa or a ghoul but the chance is enough for many to just wait it out.

There is a buzz about the venue, even after the stage emptied and the room cleared out. This night was the first public appearance of Ghost in Las Vegas with their new, their third, frontman. On stage he won the hearts of so many and it was easy to understand why.

He commanded the stage as any good frontman should. He was charming, witty and just a whole lot of fun to see in action. It is quite probable that his time with Ghost will be remembered for years to come. It wasn’t that his two predecessors weren’t great in their roles; it was just the fact that this new Papa brought his own flair and presence to the stage and the fans had eaten it all up. The added energy brought on by it being Halloween night just made it all that much more exciting.

You don’t linger with the crowd, choosing instead to take a walk. A walk will help you burn off some of the residual high the ritual left you with, without actually tiring you out. A saunter through the excitement of the casino floor is just what you want and probably need. The casino is vast, with plenty of bright lights, sounds and energy that compliments what you feel inside. You are familiar with the setting, choosing to walk a large circle around the casino perimeter. There are people around but not too many. It’s not the most crowded you’ve seen the place.

You make a stop in the restrooms to use the toilet but mostly to check your appearance. The ritual was packed, left you feeling sweaty and a tad uncomfortable. As you wash your hands you note your makeup remains flawless. You silently praise the bottle of setting spray you picked up the week before and make a note to pick up a second bottle, now that you know it works. Your cheeks are flushed and the color runs down your neck. It is a sure sign of how warm it was inside the venue. The casino itself is well air conditioned but the cooling effect hasn't been felt just yet. You know you’ll cool down in time. You neaten your hair and straighten the silver grucifix pendant around your neck, a treasured gift from a man that has your heart.

You exit the bathroom and think about stopping by one of the many bars that pepper the casino layout. A drink to quench your thirst and tickle your tastebuds seems like a good idea at the time. You briefly debate sitting down at one of the many slot machines, knowing that you could score a free drink, but ultimately decide that you'd like to pay for one a bit stronger and more fancy than the handouts provided by the casino the moment you pop a few bucks into the machines. It’s a nice trick when you’re in a gambling mindset but in the moment, you just wish to nab a cold and tasty beverage.

The bar at the center of the casino seems the least crowded of those that you pass by and you catch the bartenders eyes quickly. She walks over and compliments your Ghost shirt. She is super friendly and quite chatty as she mixes up your vodka and Sprite. As she drops a lime wedge into the glass she begins telling you how she regrets missing the opportunity to see Ghost that evening. She’s a fan herself but just couldn’t take the time off work. You offer your sympathy and tell her to catch them next time they play the venue or any venue in the city. You pay the cost of the drink and tip her generously.

With your drink in hand, you continue your circle of the casino and spend a few minutes sipping through the stirring straw. Your drink is strong but still has a nice flavor to it. You keep walking and admire the many people you spot in costume. You remember then what makes this night so special. It’s Halloween and it happens to be your favorite holiday. The hour starts getting late, the close of October drawing near but it isn’t quite midnight yet and you are certain that the night's events are far from over. You also have a level of excitement about what the following day means to you.

You complete your circle, catching the neon sign belonging to the House of Blues. You walk along the aisle that runs parallel to the attached restaurant, looking in on all the empty tables. It’s closed, you know, but have the passing thought that if you wake up early enough tomorrow you might want to go there for breakfast. It’s a fleeting thought because you know that you’re going to end up sleeping in and end up grabbing a donut from Starbucks with your afternoon coffee. In all your years coming, you've wanted to try their breakfast and have yet to do so.

As you round the wall you can see the doors to the venue again. You note that while a crowd remains bunched outside, it has thinned. You are aware there is still time to waste but feel it won’t be long now.

Digging into your small purse you pull out a crisp one hundred dollar bill. You move one of the glass ashtrays from the edge of a machine, you don’t need it. You sit yourself down in front of a flashing machine with glitter sevens and dancing jalapeños. You think the novelty of it is amusing and as you slip that bill into the machine, you take another sip from your vodka drink. You set it down in the little drink dent, and hit the glowing button, casting your first bet.

Time starts to slip by without a care in the world. That is the nature of slot machines though, isn't it?

You are down fifty dollars, even as you are betting low on the penny slot. There are more losses before you start winning some of the money back. You hit a bonus round and you find yourself with triple the amount you started with. You increase your bet and your funds drop back down. You don't give up, feeling lucky. You lower the bet to midrange and you keep playing on the casino's money. Soon your winnings and initial hundred are gone. It's entertaining however and after you throw the machine an extra twenty dollars, you start winning again. It's lights flash and festive Mariachi music blares from the speakers as you hit the mini jackpot of twenty eight dollars.

You know that it's best to cash out but you're enjoying this too much. You keep playing.

"Why does that little dancing pepper have a silly face?" Someone, a man with a thick Italian accent, asks you.

You are too involved with your winnings to pay the commenter any mind. You aren’t winning much but it’s enough to keep you focused on the spinning reels.

" _ Ciao Cara _ ." A soft voice says from beside you. It’s the same voice that asked about the pepper.

"Hello?" He tries again for your attention.

You know that voice well. It makes you smile and a warmth spreads within you. You don't respond right away, letting your fingers hit the max bet button. Once. Twice. Three times. You win nothing back from your higher bets.

"You do not seem to be winning this game." The man says, leaning his shoulder against the side of the slot machine.

His eyes are on you.

"I was winning until you showed up." You say, turning to look up at him.

Standing there is the beautiful Papa Emeritus the Third. He is still in his skull paint, but looks as if he’s cleaned up the sweat and grime that can build up in the heat of stage lights. His suit is the same as it was on stage, but only in style. It's clear to you he has changed into something cleaner, a fresh duplicate of his signature suit.

"My being here has no sway on you winning, my pretty lady." Papa says.

"It's all in the hands of the odds they program into these things." He pats the edge of the slot machine with a white gloved hand.

"No. I'm sure you are the cause of my losses." You say with a teasing lilt to your tone.

"No matter though. It’s your money I played." You add with a laugh.

He gives you a look and it’s intent was probably to show he thinks you're full of shit but it ends up making your belly flutter instead.

"Did my  _ Bella _ enjoy the ritual?" He asks, letting your jab slide.

He makes no comment on the money.

"Very much, Papa." You reply and to you, it feels strange calling him that.

Strange and new but you like the way the title sounds coming from your lips.

You make a move to stand up. He steps back to give you the room to do so. Once you are on your feet, he moves in and pulls you into a kiss. It's not deep but it's not chaste either. Your belly flutters again.

"The rituals always seem better when I know you are out there watching me." He whispers against your lips and you feel his lips curl into a smile.

It's nice to hear, even as you've only been to two with him as the frontman.

You smile as well, stepping back to look into his pretty mismatched eyes. You can't stop yourself from reaching out and touching his hair. It is soft and silky; it feels just as one might expect it to. You push a few strands back and out of his face.

"I'd attend every one if I could." You whisper, letting your fingers trail along his cheek.

"You could." He whispers and leans in for another kiss.

You don’t tell him why you can’t. It’s a conversation that you’ve had. You don't want to get into it again.

You let him kiss you. You never tire of the press of his lips moving with yours. There is temptation to deepen the kiss but you don’t want to give the casino guests a show. You don't share your Papa's voyeuristic tendencies so strongly. A little public display of affection would never ruffle your feathers but you hold a shred of modesty. It isn’t that you’re shy, just private.

Your hands press to his chest, pressing into the satin like feel of his jacket. You push against him when you feel his tongue glide across your bottom lip.

He groans softly at your rejection of the attempt to keep things going but he steps back, always respectful of your boundaries.

"Too many people around." You whisper, though there is no need to explain yourself; he knows what reservations you hold.

"You want to go somewhere else then?" He asks with a little wiggle of his eyebrow.

"Yes, of course." You say and can't resist giving his torso a long stroke before dropping your hands back to your sides.

"Can I take you back to the tour bus?" He asks and there is a level of excitement that you can feel coming off him.

You laugh, letting your eyes drop to the busy pattern of the casino floor. You shake your head and look back to meet his eyes. You do not want to do that.

"As tempting as that sounds, Papa, I feel as if Halloween is better celebrated with something other than feeding into your fantasy of fucking an eager fan on the bus." You say.

Papa laughs and his face stays with his charming grin.

"I cannot think of a better way to celebrate this unholy Devil's night than fucking you, my  _ Bella _ ." He says, reaching to hold onto your arms. His gloved hands feel so soft on your skin, bare as your t-shirt doesn't cover them.

"Did you not listen to me on stage?" He asks.

"I believe I told each and every person in that crowd to go give someone dear to them an orgasm." He went on.

You laugh.

"Yes, but the option to give oneself an orgasm was there too." You tease, knowing full well you intend to spend your night with him.

He gives you a look as if he can't argue that statement. He said it. There is a flicker of worry in his eyes that you just might take up that solo mission and leave him to his own devices.

You smile and it’s a smile that lights your entire face. You laugh again.

"I never denied the chance of fucking me, Papa." You say, reaching to touch his face again, forcing his gaze to yours.

His makeup is smooth and dry under your fingertips.

"I just don't want to do so on the bus. It’s cramped in there. And the risk of a ghoul walking in? No thank you." You add.

"Should I book us a room?" He asks.

"A nice fancy room for you, my  _ Bella _ ." One of his hands comes to sit at your hip.

"I've done so already, my sexy Papa." You whisper and you unconsciously lean into his touch. 

His eyes twinkle with delight.

"You're my favorite wife." He says and there's no time for you to reply as he's kissing you again.

You kiss back, even letting yourself get into it more than the last. It’s short lived though, as you pull back to speak.

"Reminder, I'm your only wife." You say, amusement in your tone.

You lightly poke him in the chest.

" _ Sì _ . But still my favorite." He whispers, and plants a final peck to your lips before stepping back.

"And the prettiest." He adds with a wink.

You blush at his compliment. You’ve been seeing him for three years now, married for almost one, and still he has the power to make you blush and feel giddy inside. You love him with all of your heart and body. You can't wait to get him alone.

"Do your other lovers know I'm the prettiest?" You ask, teasing.

You have Papa as your husband, yes, but you both keep other lovers. It's an open and honest relationship, one without jealousy or drama. It's the perfect thing for you both. You enjoy one another a great deal but you both realistically know that neither of you are cut out for a monogamous lifestyle. You have a boyfriend. He has two.

"My lovers are not dumb or blind  _ Bella _ , they know what beauty you possess." Papa says. "Now, let's go upstairs." He adds in a hurry.

He's obviously excited to get things going.

"We must go for a short walk first." You say. "We aren't staying here." You add.

"Why?" He asks, seemingly confused about it.

"I couldn't bring myself to book a room in this hotel." You say.

"It smells too much like cheap suntan lotion." You explain.

Papa gives the air a little sniff and his eyes go wide.

"You are right." He says with a nod of agreement.

"Though maybe expensive, not cheap." He adds with a grin.

You giggle.

"I just don't like it. I booked a room next door." You say.

"But these hotels are connected through here. It's not far." You say, pointing toward two large escalators that lead out into a large promenade lined with shops and boutiques.

"Lead the way, my sexy one." Papa says, gesturing to let you walk in front of him.

"You just want to look at my ass." You quip, but still you step ahead.

"In those pants, I'd be a fool to skip doing that." He says and there is a lightness in his voice.

The two of you ride the escalator up to the walkway. He stays two steps behind you and you don’t have to look at him to know he is staring at your ass. He was right, these jeans of yours are your favorite for a reason. They hug your curves and compliment your body shape well. You sort of wish he’d be a bit handsy, maybe grab a cheek or give a playful pinch. Little touches like that don’t bother you in public settings. It’s only the idea of full out groping and heavy kissing that makes you feel strange. A smile crosses your lips. It is as if he reads your mind, because you feel his hand slipping into your back pocket, giving a firm but quick squeeze to your right cheek.

At the top, you two walk in stride, side by side. He takes hold of your hand and you curl your fingers around his palm. You can feel the firm strip of his wedding band beneath his glove and it warms your heart to know the matching one sits on your opposite hand.

You never expected to marry him when you first met but it remains one of your best life decisions, you think. You two are the perfect complement to one another.

You met through a mutual friend, knowing at the time he held rank in his father's church as a Satanic cardinal. Before meeting him you considered yourself a Satanist but hadn't affiliated with any organization until you joined the Emeritus Church. It's an add-on truly, you feel you'd fall in love with him and marry him all over again if you had met under different circumstances.

You were there those months back for his promotional ceremony, but this Halloween ritual was the first time you'd seen him since. Living so far away from one another somehow didn't make the relationship all that hard. Yes, you missed him while he was away but it just made your time together feel that much more special.

"So, exactly how much of my money did you waste on that game?" Papa asks, squeezing your fingers and looking over at you.

His expression is one of pure curiosity. He never once seems upset with your spending habits.

"Much less than you'd drop on a game of poker." You reply.

"To which I'd like to add, I'm rather surprised you aren't parked at a table now." You say, knowing his love of playing high stakes card games.

"The promise of being with you overshadows my desire to gamble." He says and leans in quick to plant a wet kiss to your cheek.

"You're gonna fuck me and head out to play, aren't you?" You ask and it's not at all judgmental.

The thought doesn't actually upset you and you're already thinking of joining him. You do prefer slots to table games but you enjoy both.

"Not at all, my  _ Bella _ ." He replies, side stepping but keeping your hands linked.

"Maybe I will do my gaming tomorrow. I have two days to have my fun in this sin city." He says.

"Oh, will tonight not be fun?" You ask, mocking an offended tone but you're just kidding.

"Tonight will be very fun." He says and the look on his face lets you know just what he's planning.

"I will make sure of this. Lots of orgasms in the name of Satan." He adds with a grin.

"Yes, I'd expect nothing less." You agree, tugging his arm to pull him back to the closest he can be as you walk.

It is just a little further before the walkway leads to the entrance of the destination hotel. You two stay close, holding hands and leaning playfully against one another. You bypass the casino floor and go straight to the elevators. The wait seems longer than it is, as your desire begins to grow.

"I spent one hundred and twenty dollars." You say, picking up a long forgotten line of your conversation.

"Ah, yes, much less than I bet." He says with a grin.

"Maybe you win some back tomorrow." He adds in an encouraging way.

"I was up over three though." You think to say.

"But I gave it all back. I've got nothing." You sigh.

"You have me." He whispers, running his nose along the curve of your neck.

You smile. He's right. You most definitely have him.

The two of you step into the elevator car and as the doors close behind you, Papa pulls you into him, kissing you long and hard, just as he wanted to all night. You wanted it too and as you both are alone, you let him glide his tongue along your lips before you open your mouth to him. You step forward, pushing his back to the wall. You run your hands down his sides as your tongue twists with his. His leg pushes between yours, as your fingers grasp him at the hips. You can feel his cock, not quite hard but getting there, as it presses to your belly. You are overcome with a strong need and start to grind against his thigh. It's dirty, needy and desperate, but again, being alone, you don't care. Being with him draws out a real filthy side of you. The sounds you're both making lets you know just how filthy you can be.

Up and up the elevator goes, bringing you both to the designated floor with neither of you paying it any attention at all. No, you two are very much only thinking of one another and how far you can take your actions while still clothed.

Twice the elevator dings and the doors slide open. You part, reluctantly. The hall outside is gloriously empty but neither of you know for how long. You look at him, chewing your lip, and you can taste his makeup. It's not a nice flavor.

You stumble out into the waiting area outside the elevator. Papa takes a moment to smooth the wrinkles of his suit and you wipe away some of his face paint from your lips.

"Room is the second one in, just around this corner." You say, taking his hand again and leading him along.

You move through the empty corridor, quick in pace but slowed by your stumbling around like two love-sick fools. It's fitting because you are just that. The lust is very real but there is a deep love between you two.

Papa can't keep his hands off you, touching with light brushes and firmer gropes. It all feels so good, making you happy and helps to further your arousal.

It only becomes frustrating when you need to get your key card out of your little purse. Papa is kissing your neck, nibbling around your shirt collar as you dig through the pockets to find that key. You begin to feel flustered, upset because of the delay. You wonder just where that card could be. Your little bag has only so much space. As quickly as the frustration starts, it eases, as you slide the card up from the side pocket.

"Hey." You whisper, trying to get him to ease up by shrugging him away.

He does, stepping back but keeping his hands at your waist.

You fumble the key twice before dipping it into the lock slot. The little indicator flashes green and you hear the lock click open. You grasp the handle at a weird angle, twisting it down and push the door open with your back.

Papa is at your neck again, licking over your skin. He sucks a little bruise to the side of your neck as you two nearly fall into the room.

"Hey." You say again, reaching up to touch the hickey he's left behind.

"Are you twelve?" You ask with a laugh, reaching to flip the light switch.

You really don't mind it though. Your husband loves to leave his mark and you appreciate seeing it when you look in the mirror.

"No." He says and stops his train of thought to look around the room.

"Oh, this." He gasps and you hear the catch in his breath.

"This very nice." He whispers and the delight in his eyes briefly overshadows the lust that was there seconds before.

The room is large but still has a cozy feeling to it. Soft carpet, dark beige wallpaper accented with deep stained wood panels and beams. The wood has etchings, painted in black, that fit the theme of the resort. The lighting is dim. It makes a soft yellow glow surround you. There is a bedroom area with a large bed and in-room hot tub. Beyond that, a separate seating area that seems fitting for moderate to private size entertainment. The spacious bathroom is right beside where you two stand in the entryway.

"What, you don't think I can pick a luxury suite when you're not here to hold my hand?" You ask and it's a hint sarcastic.

"No." Papa squeaks.

"No I did not say that, my  _ Bella _ . You are capable. I do not imply anything." He says, tripping up his words because he thinks he might have accidentally offended you.

"I know." You whisper, softly petting the center of his chest.

" _ Il meglio per il mio amore _ ." It isn't perfect but the effect is what you desire.

"Oh." He stills and his face goes soft.

You don't speak his native language but he melts at every attempt you make.

"Now, we can skip all this room has to offer and get right to it, my Papa, or maybe we can do things with a bit of romance." You say, switching back to English because you want to be better understood.

You are quite worked up from the heavy petting both in and outside the elevator but you aren't opposed to slowing down. You want to leave the choice up to your Papa.

"I want to make the romance thing." He says and it just makes enough sense to be clear what he means. You don't correct his words.

"Come sit." You whisper, dropping your hands to his.

You take hold and lead him out of the foyer and into the main suite. There is a large sofa, with plush cushions and wide seats to your left. It's velvet and a deep purple color, pushed against the wall, and sits across from a large television, with a low coffee table in between. Sitting on the table is a chilled bottle of champagne on ice and two matching flutes.

Beside the drink is a small orange tray with various Halloween themed treats. Two chocolate cupcakes with marshmallow cream and sugar pumpkins. There are candy corns in an array of autumn colors. There are black gum drop spiders with licorice legs. Black plates and purple napkins are lying nearby.

"You set this up for me?" He says, sitting on the sofa after a coaxing push from you.

"For you, for me." You say, moving to the other side of the table to pop the bottle and serve up drinks.

The bottle opens with a loud pop and the cork sails across the room, landing not far from the king sized bed.

"Halloween is an important day, Papa, and while it must be after midnight by now, we should still celebrate the night. Halloween and one another." You whisper, pouring out the champagne.

Papa thanks you as you pass him a flute. You filled each with more than double the serving that's typically poured. You both enjoy the dry flavor and the tickle of bubbles in your nose. You make a toast, clinking glasses before you each sip.

He reaches for one of the candy spiders and pops it into his mouth as you round the table and take a seat very close to him. You are aware that he's hard and that you too are quite aroused but the urgency is gone for the moment.

"Your paint is smeared." You comment, trying but with no luck, to smooth the smudge on his chin with your thumb.

It leaves you with a bit of black paint on your hand and you wipe it across your knee.

"A hazard of kissing my  _ Bella _ with this on." He says and sips again at his champagne.

"I can wash it off if you prefer." He offers.

Your belly flops and you find yourself shaking your head.

"No, leave it." You say.

"It's quite sexy and I don't mind the mess." You add with a flush on your cheeks.

"Ah, you like that I am Papa now." He teases and leans to set his glass on one of the paper napkins.

"You find me extra sexy with all of this,  _ sì _ ?" He adds with a swoop of his hand along his own body.

"I've always found you sexy, but yes. This adds a little something more." You say, sipping from your glass before you lean to set it beside his.

You lean further to pick up the remote control. You click the television on, finding a channel that is playing  _ Halloween _ and it's halfway through the movie. You lower the volume and leave it playing, just some background noise. You set the control down and pick up your drink. Your attention returns to Papa as you take a sip. After another you put the glass back down again.

"Good champagne, right?" You say.

You know you enjoy it.

"Hmm." He hums.

"Give me a kiss." He whispers.

You lean in and pop a quick peck to his lips.

"Yes, good champagne." He whispers and you think he's being wonderful and ridiculous.

"A kiss told you that?" You question, leaning back.

You think about picking up one of the cupcakes but you hold off.

"Yes  _ Bella _ , a good champagne must be judged on how it tastes on a lover's lips." He says and reaches to cup the side of your face.

Yes, he's ridiculous but it's one of the things you love most about him. You lean back in and kiss him with more power than the simple peck. His hand slips back, sifting through your hair. You have to agree with him, the drink tastes wonderful on him. It masks the slight taste of paint on his lips. You also taste a hint of licorice from the candy he had.

"Can I request something from you?" You ask, leaning back to look him in the eyes but keeping your body close.

"Always and forever,  _ Bella amante _ ." He whispers, hand still cradling your cheek.

"I know, maybe I'm overthinking this, but earlier tonight I shot down one of your fantasy ideas and I feel selfish asking for you to help me fulfill one of mine." You say, lifting a hand to rest over the back of his, keeping his touch to your face.

"Be selfish,  _ Bella _ ." Papa whispers, tracing your lips with his thumb. His gloves are soft and smooth, but you'd prefer his real touch in a soft moment like this.

"It's my job as Papa to encourage giving into desires. This is my responsibility as your husband to give you things that make you happy." He says.

"Yes, that is true." You say.

You still feel weird. You smile softly.

"What is your fantasy?" Papa asks.

"Tell me and I will make it happen. Forget the tour bus idea. It was stupid idea." He says.

"No. It wasn’t stupid." You say, closing your fingers around his wrist and pulling his touch from your face.

You lower his arm but keep holding him. You drag your hand to his and lace your fingers.

"Don’t think your ideas are stupid, not ever." You say and you hope he gets that.

"All these things here." He begins.

"You have the good ideas. I like this. The room, the champagne, the idea of fucking you on that comfortable looking bed. This, not stupid. Fucking in the equal space of a storage closet, that is stupidness." He finishes.

You can't help but laugh. It's not at him and as a big grin crosses his face, you know he understands that.

"Well, when you put it that way, yeah, it sounds stupid." You whisper.

"But I like your ideas a lot of the time." You add to increase the lightness of the mood.

"I have the good ideas some of the times, yes." He whispers, moving his free hand to your neck.

He fingers the silver chain and traces down to the grucifix pendant.

"This was one of my better ideas." He says, back handedly complimenting his own gift to you.

You chuckle quietly and nod.

"Yes Papa." You whisper.

"I love it. I hardly ever take it off." You say, leaning into him and hoping for another kiss.

When it comes to kisses, your lover never disappoints. He is quick to kiss you, but keeps it slow and without the push for more. You both know what is in your future and you enjoy the lingering soft moments.

His hand seeks your wedding ring and he runs his touch across it.

"This was a good idea too,  _ Bella _ ." He whispers against your lips and he kisses you again.

You agree, wholeheartedly. Marriage to this man was a wonderful idea. You hum your agreement and moan softly at the pleasured feelings of his kiss. You are the one that stops the kisses.

"Tonight, I want to see the part of you that you gained from becoming Papa." You say, resting against his forehead with yours.

The ritual where he became a Papa, the new leader of Ghost and of the church was more than just a promotional rite. It changed who he was as a man. It changed what he was.

He looks back at you, seeming to like the idea very much.

"Yes?" He asks.

"Because it is Halloween?" He adds and he sounds amused.

"Well that, and I'm really quite interested to see what it's like." You reply and you can’t see his wicked smile but you know it's there the second he pulls you into another kiss.

"You want to fuck my demon,  _ Bella _ ?" His question is whispered against your lips.

You kiss him for only a short time, leaning back enough to put a good amount of space between you two. You are smiling at him and it's reflected in his own.

"Does that surprise you, Papa?" You ask, reaching across the space to start work on getting his jacket unbuttoned.

"No, not really." He says, shrugging out of the jacket, only after he helps you to open his shirt more quickly.

He leaves the shirt on, though it's wide open.

"I have no surprise ideas that you'd like to fuck a demon. A fitting fantasy for my pretty wife." The way he says it accentuates his level of amusement and desire to fulfill your wants.

Your eyes drop lower, looking over his chest and belly. His body is free of most hair but small patches and dustings are present in the usual areas. He is fit and lean, without being too skinny or lanky. He is pale, likely from a lifetime of wearing clothes that cover him fully when he goes out, and also from skipping outside all together to study what he needed to get to his position as a dark Pope.

He has a wonderful body, something you knew early on in your relationship. It was an intense physical attraction you shared back then, that you still share now. The care and deep love you share came quickly after, but it was always the physical aspects and incredible sex that kept bringing you back to one another.

"With the way you often speak of your intimate relations with some of your ghouls, don't you think it fitting I desire a night with your Hellish side?" You say, petting over his naked torso before helping him to remove the open shirt.

It was a fact, hearing his tales of sex with the tamed creatures of Hell often left you curious about what it was like. You wanted to see what it meant when he rose to power and made his bond with Satan.

"I am in agreement with you,  _ Bella _ ." He says, shivering at your touch.

You know just where to touch. How hard or soft to press. You know his body well and you know he is equally acquainted with yours.

"You may have the honor of being with me in the demon form." He whispers, eyes fluttering as you lower your touch, palming his bulge through his dress pants.

"It's always an honor to be with you, Papa." You whisper, adding pressure to your touch.

He moans, rocking his hips up off the seat and into your cupped hand. He isn't ashamed by how needy he gets when you touch him like that. He admits fully that a touch to his cock, even through layered cloth, is enough to get him moaning.

"Will you let me play out another of my fantasy,  _ Bella _ ?" He sighs, voice cracking over the pet name.

"One that doesn't require sneaking onto the bus?" His eyebrow quirks as he awaits your reply.

You're enjoying yourself so much at this point. Though you are fully dressed and your Papa still in his pants, you have him at your mercy already, keeping a firm touch on his cock. You squeeze and rub him a little longer, feeling how wet his moans make you.

"Yes Papa." You whisper, letting go of him.

"Why? Why did you stop?" He whines.

You only smile when you see him looking at you through desperate eyes. You shift away before you stand up from your seat.

"Patience, Papa." You say, reaching for the hem of your t-shirt and pulling it up and over your head.

"Do you want me to stay dressed?" You ask and it's teasing.

"Well, it is all kinds of flatter seeing my face printed on your shirt." Papa says quietly, a teasing note to his words.

"Very sexy." He sighs, starting to breathe more heavily and you notice it's because he's touching himself through the pants.

"That ego." You tease back, flinging your shirt away.

"You'd fuck your ego if you could, wouldn't you?" You say.

You step closer, knocking his hand away from his cock. You kneel on the edge of his seat, straddling his lap. It sets your breasts, still covered by a lacy purple bra, at eye level to your Papa.

"If I could and it was willing, you bet your sexy ass I'd fuck my ego." He replies, looking up at your face.

"I'd want you to fuck it too." He says.

"Oh my sweet husband, trust me, I've fucked that ego of yours." You whisper, taking a firm hold of his chin.

"It is very much a big part of you." You say and you mean it fondly; he does keep his ego in check a lot of the time.

"Big part,  _ sì _ , but not the biggest." He says with an eyebrow wiggle.

You burst into laughter and he laughs along with you. You run your thumb just under his lips. His face paint smears more easily now that he's beginning to sweat. You too feel very warm.

"What do you want me to do to feed your fantasy Papa?" You ask, feeling his hands planted against each of your ass cheeks. 

You sigh contentedly when he gives them a squeeze.

"Lead tonight." He whispers, dipping his head to press a kiss just above your cleavage.

In day to day life, the two of you are always equal in your power dynamics. In the bedroom, however, Papa is often eager to take control. It never crosses into deep power play dynamics, but you both like to play around with it. You are excited about swapping rolls for the night. It seems like a nice compliment to your fantasy as well. Sex with a slightly submissive demon? Yes, please.

"Anything you want Papa." You say, petting through his hair as he kisses your chest again.

" _ Il tuo corpo è bellisima _ ." Papa whispers, dragging his lips over the swell of your breasts.

" _ Mi fai eccitare _ ." He moans, pulling down on your bra, exposing your tits to him.

You don't entirely understand what he just said, but are comfortable with the fact he tends to slip into his native Italian when he is very turned on. You drop your gaze to him but he seems quite preoccupied.

"Papa." You sigh, pulling his hair gently as he begins to lick around one of your nipples.

He licks it until it becomes stiff. He sucks it into his mouth, teasing you enough to groan out. You release the hold in his hair and your head tilts back as he changes sides, flicking his tongue across the nipple. When he seems content with his efforts, he sits back in his seat. His leaning back causes you to lean towards him, reaching to grasp the back of the sofa to hold yourself up.

"You have, ah, such beautiful," Papa says and gives both your breasts a little squeeze.

"Perfetto." He whispers, tracing circles with his tongue across each one again.

"Papa." You say again.

It's a whine and not a sigh.

" _ Sì _ ,  _ Bella _ ?" He says, voice soft.

He looks up and into your eyes, gazing as he seems so relaxed in his seat.

"I want more." You say, knowing that he'll give in.

For you, he always does.

"Ah yes." He says.

"Does my  _ Bella _ want to move things along?"

He manages to sound playful through his deeply aroused state.

You nod.

"Where do you want me?" You ask, reaching back to unfasten the bra as it's not too comfortable in the position he left it in by pulling it down.

You ask out of habit, so used to letting him take the lead. You want to know if you’ll continue on the sofa or if it was time to move things over to the bed. It did look rather comfortable and inviting.

"On your knees." He replies.

"Get on your knees for your Papa,  _ Bella _ ." The way he says it makes you tingle.

You do as he says. You climb out of his lap, down from the sofa and onto the floor. You lower yourself onto your knees. There isn't much room between the sofa and the table, but it's enough. You look up at him, waiting for what comes next. You're still in your jeans but can tell just how soft the carpet is.

"Let me see your cock." You whisper, trying to speed things along.

Papa takes a moment to open up his pants, easing the too tight fit, a result of his erection. You watch as he lowers the zip and pulls his cock out. It's perfect, so perfect for you. Before you met him, the very thought of a perfect penis just made you laugh.

You watch as Papa gives himself a few strokes, spreading his pre release along his shaft. He is quite stiff and his cock flushed a dark pink. It's fairly straight and points up toward his belly. He is nicely endowed, not too thick but it's quite substantial and you love the feel of him in your mouth or buried inside you. He's slightly longer than average too, and yeah. Perfect.

"Let me see the demon." You urge, quite adamant with it.

"Patience,  _ Bella _ ." He says.

It's just as you told him but you didn't like hearing it. But you exercise your dwindling ability to stay patient.

Papa rises to his feet and you are watching his cock rather than anything else. You see as it twitches and it sends heat right to your core. Your eyes follow the movement of his entire body as he strips away his dress pants and boxer briefs in one go. You hear the quiet thud of his shoes being kicked aside. He is standing before you, quite close actually, and he is buck naked, save the painted face. You never noticed when he ditched the gloves or the socks.

"Close your eyes for me, my pretty lover." Papa whispers, touching your neck as he says it.

His touch is soft and feels nice. You close your eyes and tilt your face towards him. You feel your belly flutter.

Minutes go by, only two, but it feels much longer. You try to imagine him in this new form but are coming up blank.

"Open your eyes,  _ Bella _ , and crawl to your Papa." He says.

You open your eyes and see he's moved away from the sofa. He's standing equally distanced between the coffee table and television stand. The movie scenes flash on the screen behind him.

To your disappointment, he's not yet in demon form. To your delight, he looks just like his sexy self. You'd never complain about that.

You drop onto your hands, already on your knees. You weasle past the coffee table and crawl closer to your lover. When you stop at his feet, you stay low but turn to look up at his face. It is again pretty clear that swapping roles wasn't going to plan. You went along, knowing that it would be pleasurable either way.

"Open your mouth." Papa says.

His command has you rearing up onto your knees and keeps your eye fixed on his.

"I thought you wanted me to lead tonight?" You ask.

There is a slight challenge to your tone but truly you're just seeking clarification. Open lines of communication are important to you both and for things to progress in a way you both enjoy the pleasure, you want to know what is going to happen.

"Ah, I did." He says.

"I fall into the habit. I am sorry,  _ Bella _ ." He whispers.

"It's okay, Papa." You say, reaching to set one hand on his hip.

His skin is so soft and so warm. You love that about him. You gently rub the skin against his hip bone before you grab on, holding tight.

"You want a blow job, yeah?" You ask, using your other hand to grasp his cock.

" _ Sì _ ." He sighs, as you're already working your thumb around his tip.

"I'll blow you, but then I get what I want." You say, ready to take the lead.

" _ Sì _ . Always  _ sì _ ." He whispers, moving his hips into your fist, that has wrapped around his shaft.

"I want the demon and I want to be in control." You say.

You try to meet his eyes but they are closed. He clearly likes the feel of what's going on. You start to move your hand in the opposite direction of his rocking hips to create a pleasing sensation for him. Your hand glides smooth and easy, as his tip leaks.

"Understand?" You question, when he doesn't reply.

"Yes." He says with a heavy breath.

"Please, your mouth,  _ Bella _ ." He says and it's more needy than outright pushy.

You smile and still your hand. His hips thrust once more.

"Can you stay still?" You ask and it's a genuine question. You wonder if he's capable.

Papa stills himself and looks at you with a deep level of love and desire.

"I will keep still,  _ Bella _ ." He whispers, moving his hand over your cheek before slipping into your hair. The gentle scrape of his nails feels nice.

"Good Papa." You say, leaning over to lick the underside of his cock, balls to head.

He remains still but moans loudly at the touch of your tongue. It's nothing new, your Papa is a moaner.

You start simply enough, licking over his shaft a few times, mixing in some stroking with a very light touch. You slowly work him, taking the head of his cock between your lips and humming around it. He moans low in his throat, appreciative. You like this reaction from him.

"Give me more,  _ Bella _ ." He whispers, tightening his hold in your hair.

He doesn't move you, just grasps more firmly. You pull back, taking a breath before taking more of his cock into your mouth. You know that you are capable of taking him deep, to the base, but it will take some working up to get there.

You start to work him, gently running your tongue along the underside of his cock. You keep him in your mouth, taking a breath in through your nose. You take a little more before pulling back. You repeat this a few times, going further each time. You do this at your pace and Papa likes it just the same. He has patience with these things, putting your comfort over his need to cum quickly. He knows you enjoy doing this, and you do. You enjoy it for many reasons, most of all the sounds you can draw from your lover. And Papa is moaning low, and his hand falls from your hair.

You are actually quite surprised that things have progressed as far as they have and he keeps his word about staying still. You decide then to up your game, see if you can give him just a little more and break his reservations.

You bring one hand up, tickling along his thigh as you go, and take a firm (but gentle enough) hold around his balls. You cup them in your hand and give a little squeeze. It pulls a groan from Papa’s lips. You use your other hand to rub a little circle beneath the head of his cock and you kiss the tip. You are rewarded with a salty spurt of pre-cum and another groan; this one was louder. Still, Papa doesn’t rock or thrust his hips. You can both see and feel that he is trembling, so you feel as if he wants to.

Neither of you speak a word throughout. Papa only makes very pleased sounds and you hum and moan to show that you are enjoying it as well. You take a deep breath before taking his cock back into your mouth. You are focused and determined to take it all. You take and take until you feel the brush of course hair tickle your nose. You swallow around him and once again squeeze his balls. Papa moans out loud and you sort of start to wonder just how thin these hotel walls are. You think then that they must be decent enough but if not, you don’t really care.

You pull off and after a moment to take a breath, you spend a little time kissing the areas around his cock. You press your lips to his lower belly, his thighs. You occasionally give a lick to his cock, just a swipe across his tip. You suck a bruise into his skin, right at the hip bone. It makes Papa shudder and he mumbles your name in a wrecked but happy tone.

You reach down and open the button and zip on your jeans. All this work you’ve been doing to bring Papa close you have sort of neglected yourself for the moment. You’re not entirely without increasing arousal, as you’re in a constant state of spreading warmth and belly flutters. You truly do get enjoyment from blowing him.

You slip your hand down into your purple lace panties, the match to the bra you ditched several minutes before. Your sex is wet and slick and your fingers easily glide between the lips. You moan, feeling shocks of pleasure as you graze over your clit. Your sex throbs and you take Papa’s cock back into your mouth before you moan again. You work him with your lips and tongue at the same time as you work yourself with your fingers. Your goal is to tease yourself but you want him to cum. You know you will get your end soon after him. Your Papa asked you to lead once this was done and you know exactly what it is you want from him.

"Ah,  _ Bella _ ." Papa groans and for the first time he can’t hold back from thrusting his hips.

It isn’t a hard thrust and you take it with pleasure, rolling your tongue as it slides around his shaft. His cock pulses in your mouth and he is close. You just know but he isn’t shy about telling you as well.

You still the rub of your fingers against yourself and you lean back. His cock slides out of your mouth and as you turn to look up at him you see he is looking down at you.

"Does my Papa want to cum?" You ask and the way you say it sounds incredibly filthy.

He nods, taking your face in both his hands. He cradles your head and uses his thumbs to stroke over your cheeks.

"Can I cum on your pretty face?" He asks you.

His voice is husky and deep. He is breathing heavily.

"Yes." You whine, liking the idea of it quite a lot.

He smiles at you, dropping one hand away from you and taking hold of his cock. You smile back, sharing with him just how much you want this. You let your eyes drop down to watch as he works himself with a firm, quick stroking motion.

You stay knelt down, resting your hands against your denim covered thighs. You start to whisper words of encouragement to him, telling him just how perfect he is to you and how much you want him to cum on you. You moan, playing up your pleasure just a hint to increase his. You do nothing physically to help him along, letting him bring himself off.

You two have done this enough that you know it won’t be much longer now. Another few strokes is all it takes before you see Papa tense as he reaches his peak. You close your eyes, reaching out and wrapping your hand around his. Together you stroke him slowly.

He cums in three thick spurts, two of which streak across your face and the third lands across your chest. Each time he ejaculates, it's paired with a deep groan. You moan along with him, liking how it feels to have this happen.

Your eyes open and you watch as Papa drops to his knees. You shift to pull him into your arms, hugging him close as he comes down from the ultimate high.

He has a short recovery time and soon he leans back to look at the mess he’s made. The look in his eyes is one of pure satisfaction and there is a smile on his lips that lets you know that he likes what he sees.

"So beautiful when you wear this." He says, running his fingers through the cum on your cheek.

"So beautiful to me always,  _ Bella mio _ ." He sighs, bringing his fingers to your lips.

You part your lips, poke out your tongue and lick his fingers clean. You smile at him and there is a spark in your eyes.

"You desire to have my release on you,  _ sì _ ?" He asks and it's dirty.

"You like being a dirty little thing, don't you,  _ Bella _ ."

You nod. You do like it, desire it, from time to time.

"I want the demon, Papa." You whisper, licking your lips.

Papa nods his head and gets up onto his feet. He extends a hand and helps you up onto yours. You lean in and kiss him, hot and heavy. It takes some maneuvering around as you kiss, but you walk him backwards around the television stand and half-wall until you know his legs hit the end of the bed.

Not once do either of you break the kiss you share until you step back and give him a shove. He falls, gracefully, onto the mattress and lands with a little bounce. You stay up, stripping away your jeans and your panties. You leave them on the floor as you climb into the bed with him, nestled on your knees at his side.

Papa is staring at you. His appreciation of your naked body is similar to yours of his. His pupils expand and there is a flare to his nostrils as he takes a breath in.

"Please Papa." You say; your anticipation of seeing his demonic form is making you pushy.

"Turn for me. Let me see it." You command. Your voice is level and firm.

Papa sits up and he pushes you down into the mattress. You land on your back and you watch him crawl over you. He finds your lips with his and he kisses you hard. You kiss back and moan against him. The press of his naked body against yours feels so good. You feel again, the needy throbbing between your legs. You are very close to just asking him to fuck you then.

"Stay here." Papa whispers, giving you a few kisses as he slides from the bed: One to your throat. Another to your chest. And the final to your belly. You shiver with delight.

You move to sit and it's slouched, holding yourself up on your arms behind you. You fix your gaze on your Papa and he is looking at you with lust and desire.

"How long until you can change?" You ask. It sounds needy and really, it is, but you are also just wondering.

"It can be quick. Not long now until you get what you desire." He says.

How quick you wonder. Instantly? Five minutes? Half an hour? His reply was relative and you aren’t feeling patient enough for that. You nod slowly anyway, and you keep your gaze fixed on him.

He turns to the dresser, a combination armoire with a chest of drawers built right beside it. You look at his ass and smile to yourself.

"Did you happen to bring a candle,  _ Bella _ ?" He asks, speaking over his shoulder.

"You're not supposed to light candles in a hotel Papa." You say.

"Yes, and?" He asks, turning to face you.

The look on his face has you laughing. You nod and smile at him.

"Three are in my suitcase." You say before explaining to him where you stored the case.

"I know you well,  _ Bella _ ." Papa says.

"I knew you have these things." He adds, lifting one of the candles from the case before he closes it up and stores it back in the bottom of the armoire.

You sigh and stretch your legs as you wait.

You watch Papa light the candle which he set on the chest end of the dresser. He turns back to you and you just happen to notice he's already half hard. It's difficult for you to not sneak a peek at his cock when he's naked.

"The lights,  _ Bella _ , turn them off." He says.

You lean back, hitting the switch beside the bed. It shares the circuit with the one by the door. The lights go out and it accentuates the flickering candle. A low glow from the television in the other part of the room is visible but you don’t care to get up and stop it. Papa doesn't seem to mind either.

You sit up again at the foot of the bed. You sigh, both excited and happy. You gaze at your husband and keep quiet.

Papa closes his eyes and you see him relax. He appears calm in body but his face looks like he is concentrating. His brows furrow slightly and you can see his lips move, as if he is whispering. You wonder if it's some kind of incantation to summon the demon side of him.

Then you wonder if maybe his demon half is an entirely different being. Your belly flutters at the thought that maybe this is going to end up being some twisted kind of threesome. You don't really believe that but the thought was amusing for the moment it existed.

A whole minute ticks by and nothing happens.

You want to ask what is taking so long but you lose the opportunity, when Papa falls to his knees. His fall is paired with an uncomfortable groan. He's hunched over and is left folded over on the floor.

Your instinct is to panic but you don’t move. Another groan that is telling of pain comes from your husband and you are pushed into action. You scramble off the bed and make your way to his side.

"You didn’t tell me this hurts you." You say, crouching down and touching his back.

"Just for a moment,  _ Bella _ ." Papa says in a way to dismiss your worry.

It doesn't work.

"Just let it happen. I will be okay." He whispers before crying out again.

His cry is followed with an unpleasant popping sound. You don't know what popped but it was inside him. Bone or muscle, you just didn't know. What you now know is that his body is physically changing.

"Papa, I'm sorry." You say and your heart aches.

You’d never have asked for this if you knew just what he had to go through to bring his demon out. Putting him in any pain or real discomfort is on your list of no-nos. You feel terrible all of a sudden.

"Do not be." He says and you can’t see his face but you hear he's talking through clenched teeth.

Another few popping sounds are followed with a sickening crunch.

You sob for him.

"Papa, no." You say.

"I don’t want you to feel pain." You say and you can feel tears pricking your lower eyelids.

"Too late now,  _ Bella _ . It’s set into motion." He says and his voice is strained.

He is still folded over himself.

"The pain stops once the transformation is done." He says and it’s just enough to calm you down.

Well, you're relatively calm.

You want to stay by his side but at his urging, you go and take a seat on the end of the bed. You don’t take your eyes off him for a second. You can see his body change form right before your eyes. You do what you can to block out his crying and the unpleasant sounds that come with his physical form changing. You realize there isn’t much you can do to block it out. You close your eyes and wait.

A total of five minutes pass.

The room goes quiet. You can hear the soft voices coming from the television in the other half of the room. You hear the voices but can't understand them.

"Are you okay?" You ask, and you only do so because the quiet lingers too long.

Papa hasn't said anything at all. He hasn't made any indication that he's okay, that this is over and done. Nothing.

You feel scared.

"I am okay, yes." Papa says and he sounds different.

His voice is more gravelly and has something of an echo to it.

You don’t know why you keep your eyes closed but you do. Maybe there is a fear that you didn’t quite anticipate.

You wanted to see his demon form but you did so selfishly. You didn’t know what that meant for him. You didn’t know what the end result would be either. You try to reason with yourself; he could have told you what changing would entail and he didn’t- but then again you also didn’t ask. You don’t know what you are feeling. 

"How different is this form of yours?" You ask, keeping your eyes closed.

"See for yourself,  _ Bella _ ." Papa replies.

"Open your pretty eyes for me." He says.

You take a breath, holding it as you open your eyes. You release your held breath in a quiet gasp of surprise.

You realize that you like what you're seeing. You think that maybe if he was okay with this whole changing process, you’d learn to be okay with it too. The worry and the upset you felt in the leadup is fading fast. Your heart flutters and your sex throbs. This was all new to you and you are, quite literally, dripping with excitement. He looks amazing.

Papa still retains his humanoid shape. He looks maybe a bit taller but it might not be the case. He is standing a bit further from the bed so your judgment could be off.

He looks similar to how he does normally, but the angles in his body seems sharper and his features are thinned out. The skull paint is still there but it’s messy and has lost the shaping, the clean lines all blurred. His skin has gone slightly grey in color, and not just on his face. This isn't some end result of mixing black and white paint.

Upon his head, a pair of smooth black horns, long enough to curl but they aren’t massive by any standard. They are shiny in appearance and the tips seem dulled down. They grow high on his forehead, just below the hairline. They sit a few inches from his temples, definitely on the front of his face.

From over his shoulders, you can see he has a pair of wings, which he keeps neatly folded. They are what you would expect of a demon- leathery skin and no feathers.

You just stare at his face again, trying to tell yourself that this is what you asked to see. He isn't frightening to you but it's all new.

You let your gaze move down his arms. His hands are shaped the same, but his fingernails have grown longer, claw like in appearance. They are shiny and black, like his horns.

Your eyes scan lower, over his body. His build is not too different, lean and fit. There is slightly more muscle definition.

Movement catches your eye and you see he has a tail. Oh, this could get very exciting! It's long and black. It's not incredibly wide but it has a decent girth. The end is flat but has a pointed tip. It twitches like maybe he feels nervous. Nervous is not an emotion you're used to from your Papa.

His cock looks the same, maybe more reddish now, than flushed pink, but every detail you love about it, remains unchanged.

When your sight reaches his legs, you find the largest difference. He still has two but they bend the wrong way. His feet have been replaced by shiny black hooves, the same color as his horns and claws. You suspect that it comes with being a demon. His lower half is very close to how you imagine Satan might appear should you ever see Him. They remind you of goat legs, but they lack the furry coat of an animal.

Papa is staring at you with a pair of jet black eyes. The look on his face remains nervous but you're picking up hints of pride in there too. He is proud of his accomplishments, reaching this level and being made in the image of the great Master in Hell.

"So?" He says, breaking a very long silence.

"You have hooves." You say and that is really all you can manage.

It is a little whiny and obvious that you're trying to hold off laughing.

"Ah, look at that, I do." Papa replies, looking down at himself.

His nerves seemed to level out.

He meets your eyes again and he's smiling at you. You see then that he has a row of jagged teeth and a purple tongue.

"Is that all my  _ Bella _ can say?" He asks and there is that nervousness again.

"I like it." You say in a way you know he understands.

"It's really… fuck it's sexy." You whisper.

Papa's grin gets wider. His wings twitch and flex but he keeps them closed, folded behind him.

"Well, I am sexy,  _ Bella _ , there is no changing that." Papa says and it makes you shiver.

"Come closer." You say.

You wanted to sound commanding but your voice wavers and it’s telling of a slight nervousness you have been overcome by.

Papa walks towards you. His gait is different but he still has his signature swagger. His head is held high and you are definitely okay with this change. He doesn’t seem negatively affected by the process.

He stops at the foot of the bed, reaching to touch your legs. One clawed hand sits against each thigh and you let your eyes drop to see it. It sends a shudder down your spine. It’s a shudder of desire and not fear. You watch as Papa pushes your legs apart, spreading them wide before sinking down to his knees.

"You got what you want,  _ Bella _ , now indulge me." Papa says, looking up at you from the floor.

"Do to me what you will. I am here to do your biddings for the night." He says and you miss half the words because you are intently staring at his mouth.

You noticed before that his tongue was purple, tucked behind a row jagged teeth. What you hadn’t noticed that his tongue was a Hell of a lot longer than it had been previously.

Before you have control of your own actions, you are reaching out and you grasp his hair. You tug it sharply. You were thinking that you wanted to take time to explore this new body of his but your body had other ideas. Your curiosities will have to wait because there is only one thing on your mind.

"Go down on me Papa." You say and a needy whisper is all you can manage.

"Lick me, eat me out. Make me cum on your face." You find your words and they're pure filth but exactly what you want.

You shift your body a little closer to the end of the bed and you hook your legs over his shoulders.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He doesn’t need your hand to guide him. He is quick to move in and push his face against you. He wastes no time, sliding his tongue out and runs it right over your slit before slipping it between your lower lips.

Your body jolts, then tenses immediately and you pull on his hair. It is the most intense feeling you’ve felt from just a mere tease. You open your mouth to make a sound but nothing more than a stilted groan makes it up your throat.

Papa pulls back and spends a few minutes kissing and licking over your thighs. He leaves no part unattended to, his lips and that tongue find every inch of skin from your knees up to the place where your legs join with the rest of your body. You gasp when he starts to nibble the innermost portion of your right thigh. He knows this is your secret ticklish spot and he uses it to his advantage. The jaggedness of his teeth feels unique but you like it.

His hands move under you to grip your ass and he lifts your body up from the mattress. He holds tight as his attentions return to your center. He works you with his tongue, moaning at your taste. He’s always been quite happy to do this and it’s probably one the things you both enjoy most.

Your legs press down on his shoulders as you shudder the moment his tongue circles your clit. He moans again, sucking it into his mouth. When you whimper, he releases it and returns to a less focused way of doing things.

"Sweet  _ Bella _ ." Papa whispers, lips moving between your legs.

You look down the bed, meeting his eyes. You feel yourself throb at the look he is giving you. It’s always been hot seeing him down there, the added demonic look seemed to triple the hotness for you.

" _ Amo il tuo sapore _ ." He whispers, moving his tongue through your folds before lightly flicking your clit with the tip.

You whine, the sound loud in volume. Your eyes clamp shut and your head tilts back. You are seeing stars and while it is always good to have him go down on you, nothing compares to this demonic tongue of his. It’s added length covers more surface area. It’s hot and wet and he knows just how to use it.

"Papa." You half gasp, half moan.

Your back arches as you feel his tongue slide down and back, licking long and slow over your asshole. It's unexpected but not unappreciated.

You can feel and hear him giggle down between your legs before he stops, paying a fair bit of attention to your taint instead. He hums against it. It sends a warm and fuzzy feeling though your body and you can’t stop yourself from trembling.

His lips are at your clit again and his hand is at your hole. You are so overwhelmed by varying sensations you never noticed he took one hand off your asscheek. He strokes over your labia, careful not to scratch. You let go of his hair and your arms drop down to the bed. You keen and moan, feeling him slide his fingers around before slipping two right into you. He goes deep and he curls them at the same time as he flicks his tongue rapidly over your clit.

You arch up off the bed, gasping in pure bliss, and you slap the mattress with your hand, having no control of your movements as he works you closer to orgasm.

He stops lapping at your clit and you are seconds from protesting when you feel his tongue join his fingers. Never before has it been that deep inside you before. You whimper, biting your bottom lip. You make yourself lay back down and savor the wet glide of his tongue.

You start to calm down enough to stop smacking the bed like a mad-woman, and you reach to grab him by the left horn. You push him back, gasping a breathy "Enough" because you feel like you’re going to explode. You are just too sensitive in the moment.

"Too much?" Papa asks and he gets up onto his feet.

"Yes." You sigh and you feel like a quitter.

"Get into bed." You say to him.

Papa climbs into bed and he lays himself down at your side. He looks down at your face. You feel as if you are probably looking a hot mess. You are flushed and sweaty and there is definitely still cum on your face and chest. You do get the feeling you might look less of a hot mess than he does, however. His face paint is all but gone from the nose down, the remaining paint is all smudged and streaking. You'll bet your inner thighs are where the paint ended up.

"Did you want to stop?" He asks, and there is a kindness and level of concern in his voice.

"No." You answer.

"I just… lemme take a minute." You whisper and pull him into a kiss.

You can taste your juices on his lips and it is something that you are used to. It isn’t something that turns you off. You turn onto your side and you let the kiss deepen. His tongue feels so nice as it moves with yours. 

Papa is quick to wrap you in his arm, roll onto his back and pull you over him. You settle between his legs, resting with your chest to his. You two take your time to slow things down and just kiss one another. It’s nice and calm and keeps you both aroused enough for when you’re ready to continue.

It is you that breaks the kiss and you sit back. You climb off him and take a long time to look at him. You got a good view when he first revealed his new form to you but you wanted a closer look, a detailed look.

You are fascinated to say the very least. You're in bed with a demon and he's yours. You still find him sexy and beautiful. You make your observations with eyes and touches. You appreciate his new parts, respectful of the form. You would never treat this as something novel. He is the man you love, made more as he joined with Satan to achieve highest ranks in the church.

"So, you like this,  _ sì _ ?" Papa says quietly.

He's been watching you take it all in. He let you have your moments to observe but it's clear his ego was in need of a stroke.

"I do, Papa." You whisper and smile at him.

"I like it too." He whispers.

You feel his touch at your sides and without words, he guides you back over him. You lean down and kiss him. It starts slow, gentle and romantic. You know soon that you're going to be ready to continue with deeper pleasures but you take your time.

Papa goes along with the softness, keeping his promises to let you lead. Your heart clenches and you feel like crying because you just love him so much. You let yourself cry but not for long.

Papa kisses away your tears and asks you why you are crying. You explain why, that you're overwhelmed by everything, but that your tears aren't because you are sad. You tell him just how much you love him and he tells you how much he loves you.

The tears fade and the kisses build. They're deeper, longer and start to make your arousal rise again, ready for more.

Papa kisses down your neck, scraping his jagged teeth along the tendon there. It makes you shudder and you start to gently rock your hips against his lower abdomen. You can feel his cock, hard and leaking again, resting against your ass crack. The rocking builds, creating more friction until you're rubbing yourself against him to gain pleasure. It is a real nice start but you know it could be better. His lips are at your chest again and he's barely starting to tease your nipples.

"Papa." You whisper and he looks up at you.

His all black eyes gaze into yours. He looks at you, waiting for what you will say.

"Let me sit on your face." You say.

Papa makes a noise that doesn't even sound human. It's a needy whimper crossed with a guttural groan.

" _ Per favore _ ." He whispers.

" _ Mettimela in faccia _ ." He says desperately.

It takes a bit of moving around but you two find the position that will work best for you. You move to the middle of the bed. Papa is on his back, no pillow beneath his head. You sit straddled over his face, down far enough to avoid his horns scraping along your thighs. You hold onto his horns, one in each hand. You are resting on your knees, keeping your core just beyond the reach of his mouth.

Papa whines, and you know that he wants to start. But he left you in control, you decide when. You are eager as well but you want to tease him. It is fun for you and you know he enjoys it too.

You feel a shock when his hand reaches to touch you. He clearly grows impatient with your making him wait this out. His touch is soft and delicate. You don't want to ask him to stop.

" _ Bella _ ." Papa whispers.

"So wet for me  _ Bella _ . Let me bring you to orgasm." He sounds so sweet, even as there is an added husky tone to his already gravelly demonic voice.

"You okay to start, Papa?" You ask, drawing out your words to prolong the contact even further.

" _ Sì Bella _ ." Papa whispers.

" _ Grazie _ ."

You know that you have him needy. Under your control. He's thanking you for this.

Simply, he's greedy when it comes to eating you out and it's probably quite stressful for him to be made to wait. You are feeling very good but you are quickly getting tired of the teasing too.

You lower yourself onto his face, careful not to smother him but pressing onto him enough to get the desired results.

He moans in unadulterated satisfaction. He picks back up where he left off, quick to please and willing to tease. He's attentive to what you want from him while also taking what he wants from you. His tongue works your clit for a while and he makes fast work of building your pleasure back to where it was.

You know just what he can take and you gently grind against his tongue. You whine and moan, feeling like you could very easily cum like this, and soon. You look down your body, between your legs to see him.

His eyes are closed and he moans hungrily against your lower lips. He buries his long tongue inside you, fucking you with it again and again.

"Oh fuck Papa." You cry, feeling your legs shake.

You release one of his horns and move your hand up your own torso. You squeeze a breast and thumb your nipple.

Papa sucks your clit with noisy slurps and his fingers push up inside you. He curls them forwards, giving a little wiggle and presses hard against your inner walls. You gasp out, moaning his given name. He has you close.

You are lost in a whirlwind of building pleasure and increasing need to cum. You can hear the wet slide of his own hand moving over his cock behind you.

" _ Vieni _ ." Papa says.

"Cum my  _ Bella _ . Cum for your Papa. Cum for Satan." He urges you, pressing against that special spot inside you.

He stops talking, sucking your clit into his mouth. Between that and the press of his two fingers inside you, your vaginal muscles clench around him. Your hips jerk, bucking wildly as you cum hard, not once but twice. The second is intense enough you squirt.

You feel Papa's second release of the night shoot up your back as you arch your body, through your own climaxes.

You are shaking violently but you feel so good as you collapse to the mattress by his side. You are panting quite heavy and you feel like the world is spinning much too fast. It's dizzying but you feel amazing just the same.

Papa is breathing heavily beside you. You lift your head to look at him. He is still on his back, taking deep breaths. You watch him let go of his cock and let his arm drop down to his side.

You roll over, facing your body to his. Too tired to shift up the bed, you drag one of the many pillows down to you. Once you think you are comfortable enough, you move your arm to rest along his. It's just enough contact for the moment. You feel his tail resting alongside the front of your leg. It's odd. Cuddling will happen, you are sure, but the reassuring touch will do for now.

"Ah, fuck,  _ Bella _ ." Papa says and he laughs.

"Praise Satan for all this." He murmurs sleepily.

You huff a quiet laugh, feeling tired too.

"We should probably go shower." You whisper, flinging your arm around Papa.

"You go first." He replies, looking at you by only shifting his eyes.

"You don't plan on joining me?" You ask.

You'd like it if he would but don't feel bothered if he chooses not to.

"I disappointed you?" Papa asks and finally rolls over and looks at you head on.

"Not at all, Papa." You assure him with a smile and a little kiss between the horns.

"I imagine you want to change back to your human form." You say, resting your head on your hand, with your arm bent at the elbow and leaning on your pillow.

" _ Sì _ ." He whispers, smiling softly as you trace lines around his chest and belly.

"I do like this new form, how I look and what it means, but I'd like to be me again." He says.

"You're still you." You say and lean to give him a kiss.

You feel so tired and would like to stay in bed but you know that a shower is really necessary. You sit up, stretching your arms to the ceiling. You shift to the edge of the bed and turn to Papa before you get up.

"You plan on going to bed after your shower?" You ask him.

"If you are." He answers and yawns.

It's a loud sound.

"And if I don't?" You say next.

"You want to go play poker." Papa says.

"If you wish that, I'll get dressed and head out with you,  _ Bella _ ."

"I was considering that." You admit.

"Maybe more slots."

Papa makes a face and shakes his head.

"I will go downstairs with you still, but you play those games on your own. I will play poker." He says and sits himself up.

"What is the time,  _ Bella _ ?" He asks.

You turn to look at the clock on the bedside table. Your body obviously blocked it from his view.

"It's just after three." You say.

"November 1st." You add with a thoughtful smile and a little huff of air passes through your nose.

"Ah, November the first." Papa says and his dark eyes seem to light up.

"It is our anniversary, my lovely wife." The way he says it sounds so cheerful, despite the deeper demonic tone in his voice.

You smile brightly and give a little nod of your head.

"I was wondering when you'd bring that up." You say and it's light and teasing.

"I would not forget to bring it up,  _ Bella _ ." He whispers.

"I didn't think you would." You say.

You slide out of bed and give your body another stretch.

"I'll be quick in the shower." You say and make your way around the bed.

"Not too quick." Papa says.

"Change your mind about joining me?" You inquire, turning back to look at the bed.

"It's maybe." He says.

"I shall see how I feel once I change back. Then maybe you get lucky before we go downstairs. We still have not actually fucked yet tonight." He adds with a genuine smile.

You smile back at your Papa and hurry into the bathroom.

It might be after three in the morning but your night is far from over. You feel an excitement, not yet sure what it will bring.


	4. Vampires Will Never Hurt You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Features Cardinal Copia, Set Halloween 1970

You love Halloween and have loved it since you were young. Dressing up, trick or treating, the surplus of pumpkins everywhere you look, and the general acceptance of things that are often deemed too spooky for day to day life. You just LOVE the holiday and all the darker sides of life, art and entertainment.

As a child you were called a freak and as you grew older, you wore that freak title like a badge of honor. You found good friends though, ones that liked the things you did, friends that held Halloween in their hearts 365 days a year just like you. You and those friends keep the joy for this time of year and deep down you know that it isn’t anything that you’ll ever outgrow.

You find yourself in a local bar. It’s one that is popular in the downtown setting, popular but only with people in the know. It’s not over crowded and it’s often full of like-minded people. It is the kind of place you and your friends like to be.

It’s the bar that you so often spend your Friday nights hanging out; a weekly ritual, a way to let loose and spend time with those you care about. Occasionally it is a time to meet new people. It isn’t any place extraordinary but it has an element of charm that some of the other bars and dance clubs in the area seem to lack.

They play your favorite rock music; a good mix of radio friendly tunes, paired with faster punk and heavy metal. They don’t play disco or pop in this bar, though maybe in secret, you enjoy that kind of music too.

It’s the night before Halloween and you know that there is bound to be a lot of excitement in store, but maybe walking in, you don’t know just how much excitement.

Conversation and drinks are plenty this night and the Halloween themed festivities break the occasional monotony that weekly visits provide. Songs about monsters and ghosts blare from the speakers. Decorations dangle down from the warehouse style ceilings, not a single rafter is left without some spooky design.

People are dressed in costumes and they are just as varied as the personalities of everyone inside. Zombies and vampires mingle with angels and devils. There are people dressed as their favorite superheroes, television characters, and some are not dressed up at all.

You are quite proud of your costume, a thrown together ensemble of thrift-store finds and fanciful makeup. Black patent leather pants hug your curves and squeak when you move. Your top is a loose fitting button down of cream colored satin, with a low scoop neckline and poofy sleeves. A sleek choker necklace rounds your throat, black satin with a large pendant, in the shape of a bat. It hangs just above your line of cleavage that you boosted with aid of a fitted push-up bra. Your boots are a less shiny black than the pants, but they match well enough. They have pointed toes, chunky buckles that run full length from ankle to just above the knee and a narrow, four inch heel.

You paled your face with white setting powder and drew in some visible veins with a metallic blue liner. You darkened around your eyes, mixing shades of purple and black. Your lips are lined and filled in with a deep shade of blood red.

The final piece, a set of cheap plastic fangs. Your goal to mimic your favorite Hollywood monster is met with a passing grade.

Time slips by as if not a care in the world exists. You are lost within the small world, this bar and your friends. The nine o’clock hour bleeds into ten. Ten is gone as it fades to eleven. Soon you hear the chime of midnight.

“HAPPY HALLOWEEN SPOOKY FRIENDS!” The emcee shouts into a microphone.

“Stop at the bar for half-price drinks and maybe a little extra treat if we like your costume.” They add with a laugh.

You show no interest in heading up to the bar as it is suddenly flooded with a large crowd. You and your friends sit in your corner and finish your drinks. You chat about the latest movie to hit theaters and what albums you have on heavy rotation.

Midnight slips away; the time nearing one. You’re picking up your second wind as many others are looking to call it a night. One by one your friends say their goodbyes. There is an exchange of hugs and 'catch you laters'. You will miss their company but it's time you branch out to chat up someone new. The very idea thrills you, liking to meet people. Sadly, no one catches your attention right away but you're happy to be there just the same.

The night begins to blend with the wee hours of the morning. The music switches from DJ to jukebox, the crowd thins, and still it does not bother you in the least. You have always preferred the late nights to any other time of day. You've been a night owl as long as you can recall.

Sitting on a high, backless barstool at the much less crowded counter and resting your elbow against the polished bartop, you watch as the last of the crowds clear out. Couples and singles remain, last minute boozers and lonely hearts.

It is exactly two in the morning and you know that it is close to closing time. You sigh and lift your glass to your lips to take a sip. An hour before, you abandoned the plastic fangs, letting them sit against a cocktail napkin at your side. You have no plans to leave, not until they cut the lights and music, ushering you out the door.

"That drink looks delectable." A voice from beside you says.

The voice is sweet like sugar to your ears and the smooth accent you can’t quite place sets an array of butterflies loose inside your belly. You are taken off guard by the pleasant sound, you forget to look and see who said it.

"What is it?" The voice asks and you hear the stool next to you being dragged away from the bar, likely because the person is looking to sit down.

Finally, you turn all the way to your left. That's when the flutter feeling stops and your stomach flips and flops like mad. Your heart jumps up into your throat and just stops completely before starting to beat at a rapid pace. You almost drop your drink but the tightening of your fist ensures the glass stays in your hand.

Standing there is a man. A gorgeous man with two-toned eyes, slicked back hair and an incredible smile. His age is ambiguous with the presence of fine lines on his face and streaks of greys in his hair, yet he has a youthful gaze and demeanor. His pale face is framed in neatly shaped sideburns. His upper lip has a strangely endearing mustache and his mouth is twisted up in that little smile of his. He is, without an ounce of doubt, the most stunning man you've ever laid eyes on. 

You think-  _ Oh hello there handsome! _ -and your cheeks flush.

Again your stomach wobbles. You breathe in sharply. It is not quite a gasp but the sound you make is audible over the lull between songs playing from the jukebox. You heard his question but have been shocked into silence. It seems your brain lapses, forgetting how to work.

The smile on his face widens and you catch a glimpse of sharp white teeth behind his beautiful lips. It just might be a trick of the light but it appears the man really has sharply pointed teeth. You can’t pull your eyes away from him, letting your gaze move downward.

It is obvious to you in the moment that this strange man put a lot of effort into his costume. His overall style screams vampire to you and while it is a familiar enough look to get the point across, you have not once seen someone portray the nocturnal monster in such a way. You are jealous that his costume is better than yours, but you  _ really _ like what you see. Your heart feels tickled that he seems to appreciate the same monster as you.

He isn't very tall, but the tight black suit he wears gives the illusion of long, lean legs. The probably expensive material hugs his thick thighs and his ass, which for the moment you only see in profile. You make the judgement that with a pair of legs such as his- his ass has to be incredible.

His black shirt is buttoned to the top, worn beneath a tightly fitted waistcoat and matching jacket. Upon his jacket is a beautiful yet unique symbol. It is one you haven't seen before, an ornate inverted cross. The symbol is elegantly embroidered and holds your attention for just a moment. It is intriguing, like him.

He is wearing a cape over his shoulders, sewn from the same expensive looking black material as his suit and the lining is ruby red. His cape is held secure around his body with a beautiful metal batwing clasp.

His hands are covered in leather gloves with the backs adorned with a similar design as the embroidered jacket but done in a much more simplified execution.

Lost in your own thoughts, you aren’t even aware that you’ve been staring at him without saying so much as hello. You are simply captivated by this strange and beautiful man.

"I didn't mean to frighten you." He says.

You blink once, confused by his statement. You are definitely not frightened. It becomes obvious that this man took your silence as fear. You wonder why.

Should you be afraid?

Your heart says no. Your entire body says no actually, but maybe there is a little flicker in your brain that says yes.

The hour is late and this strange man just appeared to strike up some conversation. Your increasing lust levels overrule that speck of fear, shooting it right down.

"Sometimes I just, eh, sneak up on people without that being my intention." He explains with a flourished hand swoosh.

"Please, accept my apologies." He offers with a bow. It is both awkward and sweetly charming.

"It's okay." You whisper, trying in vain to stop staring at the tight fit of his pants.

_ Really, stop staring _ ! -you tell yourself.

His pants leave nothing to the imagination and it would be slightly comical if you hadn't felt so damned aroused by the sight.

You force your eyes up to his face, focusing instead on his unusual eyes. They are very interesting to you, mismatched. One looks no different than any other eyeball you have seen before, a natural shade which is unclear in the dim light of the bar. The other is very unique; stark white and it seems to gaze more intently back at you. The dual colored pair looks supernatural, fake yet so real. Perhaps he has access to the fancy costumes and props they use in the movies you love to watch.

You stay quiet and he does not further the conversation either. The pair of you just look at one another for a long while.

You feel that flip-flopping sensation in your belly once more and it causes you to lean back, nearly falling from your barstool.

"Please, be careful, Miss." The man says.

His quick reflexes have his hand at your back, keeping you from toppling over to the floor. His gloved hand presses into the small of your back.

"I'm good." You assure him with a lop-sided smile and find your balance.

You laugh inwardly. Never before has anyone made you swoon like that. It is a sign that maybe you feel more attracted to this mystery man than you initially thought. You make no comment about the hand at your back. It feels nice; his touch is feather light and strangely cool through the airy fabric of your top.

"Perhaps you had one too many of those." He says, tone light hearted and without judgment.

He glances down at your glass, then he's looking into your eyes again.

You feel a bit dizzy and set the glass down on the little cardboard coaster. You laugh out loud.

"It's a Shirley Temple." You say.

"I never developed the taste for alcohol, but soda and cherries I like very much."

You smile.

"I have not had one before." He says to you.

His hand slips away and he gracefully shifts around until he is on the other side of you. He pulls out the other empty barstool and looks at you with a question in his eyes.

"Would you like to sit?" You ask.

"Do you mind?" He questions, before slipping onto the stool and making himself comfortable.

"I do not." You whisper.

You think you don't mind. Well, maybe you mind a little because the idea of going somewhere more private with him crosses your mind.

_ Stop! _ -you think to yourself, imploring a slow down.

You've only just met him and haven’t even gotten his name. You're no stranger to random hook ups, but you never do so without getting their name first. And you never jump so quickly into it.

"I like your costume." You blurt out, feeling strange with all the long pauses in what isn’t really a conversation just yet.

It stops your wandering mind at least.

The man laughs and turns to you with another one of his beautiful smiles.

"This old thing?" He asks and looks down at what he’s wearing.

"Thank you." He adds with a genuine twinkle in his non-white eye.

"Would you like a drink?" You ask him, realizing he’d been without.

"No, I'm fine, but thank you." He says and you can’t help but notice that he isn’t looking at you any longer.

"No worries." You whisper and take a sip of your own drink, one of the many cherries from the glass slipping into your mouth.

"Do you have a name?" You ask, then sigh a little chuckle.

"I do." He says with a sideways smirk.

"Of course you have a name." You say, laughing louder at yourself.

"What I meant to ask was, what is your name?" You clarify, looking at him and hoping that his gaze will fall back on you.

"My name is Copia." He says, turning his whole body on the stool until he is facing you.

Your eyes drop to the place between his legs once more. You can’t stop yourself, especially not when he is sitting there like he is, with his legs spread wide, bent at the knees with his feet resting on the little ledge at the base of the stool. You catch what you are doing and once again force your eyes back to his face. You smile sheepishly. You feel a blush creep up your neck.

"Copia." You repeat.

You don't know whether it's his first or last. You find you don't really care. You like the sound of his name in your mouth. You can't help but think about what else that belongs to him that you want in there.

_ Oh boy _ ! -you think, feeling strange with your rapidly growing attraction to this man.  _ Calm down. _

"An interesting but lovely name." You say with a shy smile.

How shy are you really after catching yourself staring at the impressive bulge in his pants a few times too many? How shy are you having such dirty thoughts? You don't necessarily believe that these kinds of thoughts were a negative thing, just occurring too soon. You know what you like and will indulge when the time is right.

After a moment you introduce yourself to him, offering your hand for a shake along with your name. He takes your hand and lifts it to his lips, kissing the back just over your knuckles. His lips feel cool against your skin. You can’t help but notice that he lets his lips linger a moment too long and you feel two of his fingers creep up and caress the underside of your wrist. You are much too charmed by this Copia to think that his actions were creepy. You can't understand why he does it.

"A beautiful name." He says, leaning back and letting go of your hand.

You flush again but don’t know if it is his compliment, or from the way he’s now looking at you. There is a lust and a kind of hunger in his unique eyes.

"So do you come here often?" You ask him, never any good with small talk.

You are not at all shy but you sometimes don’t know what to say even as there is the desire to hold a conversation. It gives off the impression to some that you may be awkward. You don't want to appear awkward to Copia.

"I do not." He says and he looks down at the bar.

You think he should have a drink in his hand.

"Don’t get out much?" You say and instantly regret it.

_ Why did I say that? _

Your cheeks flush again. They are bright red and it’s entirely the fault of your embarrassment.

Copia laughs, the sound pleasing to your ears. The way he laughs hints that he is actually amused and not the least bit offended by the words that left your mouth. He looks back at you.

"New to the area." He explains.

"I get out plenty." He adds with a wink.

"Yes, yes of course." You say, feeling yourself begin to ease.

"I did not mean to offend you Copia." You whisper and once again lift your glass, drinking down the last of your Shirley Temple.

You are feeling much too warm all of a sudden. You want another but the bar shut down service not long after two.

"I am not so easily offended." He says, still looking at you with his intense gaze.

"Least of all by someone as beautiful as you." He adds and the smile is back on his lips.

You see the first instance of shyness behind his eyes.

You blush some more, cheeks as red as the cherries left on the bottom of your glass. You see as he smiles, that his teeth are definitely sharp and pointed. Much like the seamless look of his one white eye, the fangs in his mouth appear very real and you just have to question him on who does his make up. It’s just so good.

"May I ask you a question?" You ask.

He looks at you as if he is considering your pre-question question. He licks his bottom lip and you swear that you might just swoon again. You try not to think about where you want that tongue. You fail at your endeavors and your belly flops again. A small moan slips past your lips at the thought.

His eyes drop lower, and you think at first he is staring at your chest. You can’t quite blame him, your choice in attire was to draw attention there. The more you look at him, the more you come to realize that he’s looking above the line of your chest. He is staring at your neck.

"You may ask me a question." He replies, looking back up at your face and tilting his head because he definitely heard that moan.

"But just one." He adds and you can’t tell if he is kidding. The playful look of the smile on his lips leads you to believe that he is absolutely kidding.

"Who did your make up?" You ask him.

Quickly adding, "Do I really only get one?"

Once more, his one colored eye seems to twinkle and you just know he is delighted by your questions.

"You may ask me whatever you want, as many things as you want. I shall not impose a limit." He says.

"Sometimes my jokes, they do not come across as intended. We have just met, yes, but I am an open book. I will answer whatever your beautiful heart desires." He explains.

"If I think of any more, I will ask." You say and alongside your anticipation of his answer, you are already thinking of anything else you might wish to know.

"But for now, I just wish to know who did your make up or maybe where you purchased it from. It’s so well done. Are you from Hollywood?" You say, speaking fast and sneaking in yet another question for him.

He smiles and it’s positively wicked.

"May I ask you a question?" He says, leaning closer to you and not answering what you asked.

"It’s only fair. Ask away." You say and motion with your hand for him to go on.

You find no reason to keep things from him, as he's offered you the same. You believe in playing fair, and truthfully you didn't have much to hide from the world.

"Do you want to know a secret?" He asks you.

"Is that your question?" You ask, grinning.

It finally clicks in your brain that his accent is Italian. You don't bring it up.

"Yes." He says, keeping his eyes on yours.

"Yes." You whisper and the sound is softer than his touch.

You want to know his secret.

_ Wait, touch? _

You notice that his hand is over yours and you don’t remember just when that happened. His touch is so soft and again, cold. You assume it’s the leather of his gloves that make it so.

Copia leans in, very close to you. You are vaguely aware that you cannot feel his breath on your skin, despite his closeness. It’s odd but you try not to think too much about it.

"This is no costume." He says, lips moving over your ear.

You shiver, as the brush of his lips and mustache tickle the curve of your ear. You feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"What?" You whisper, though you seem to have a solid idea about what he means by this.

He remains close. If you turned your head, you could kiss him. You want to but you don't. His lips are still at your ear and you feel the touch of his hand move up your arm. He closes his fingers around you, holding on but not tight enough to keep you there. The cool press of his gloved palm against you sends a warmth running through you. It’s confusing and it's contradicting but it’s not unpleasant.

"Do you believe in vampires, Beautiful?" He asks.

You have always been intrigued by the idea that such a creature exists, but logically, you aren’t sure. Throwing caution to the wind, you think and mull the information in your brain. They exist, for sure, in your favorite books and movies but in the real world?

_Maybe vampires do exist. Maybe he isn’t lying to you. What then? Does this mean that Copia is one of them? Is he dangerous? Could a vampire be kind?_ _Has he chosen me as his next victim? Why chose me?_ Your thoughts become overwhelming.

“I don’t know.” You whisper, and your voice wavers.

You are compelled to tell Copia the truth about your conflicting thoughts. There's no point in lying.

"You should." He says, letting go of your arm and sitting back.

"Why?" You ask and think it's a stupid question.

You are gazing at the wall, far beyond the seat in which Copia is sitting. You can’t bring yourself to look at him just yet, even when prior to what he just said you couldn’t take your eyes off him. You don’t feel afraid, nor do you feel threatened. You don’t know what it is you are feeling.

You know what it is he will say next.

"Because I am one." He says.

You turn to look at him as you nod. You want to believe it. You can't help but think that he isn’t lying to you. You look around the bar, so few people remain.

"I will not hurt you, Beautiful." He says and it is enough to draw your gaze back to his face.

"I'm no monster." There is a sadness to how he says it.

You get the impression that people are afraid of him because of this. It certainly made his previous statements more logical. You didn't fear him, not really.

"You are not fooling me, are you?" You say, looking into his eyes and seeing no signs of trickery.

You decide that moment that he's telling you the truth.

"You're serious." You say.

It isn’t a question.

Copia gives a little nod in reply anyway.

"You have more questions, no doubt." He says.

It's your turn to nod.

"Maybe, you want to go somewhere more private?" He inquires but makes no move to get up from his seat.

"Yes." You say, wondering what the Hell you've just agreed to.

You don't move from your seat either. The two of you fall back into the mutual silence. It doesn't feel strange or awkward, despite the loud noises inside your head.

_ I just agreed to follow a stranger out of here. And he's a vampire. So he's either telling me the truth and there are a whole lot of things in this world that maybe I don't know about and understand. Or he's lying and I'll end up like a victim in one of my favorite slasher movies. What have I done? _

Again you feel the gears in your head turning fast. You can't stop overthinking.

"We should go now." Copia says and his voice pulls you from your thoughts.

The way he says so seems conversational, not demanding. It slightly eases your mind.

"Where?" You ask, pushing away your empty glass before letting yourself slip down from the barstool.

"I can take you back to my place." He offers.

"I live in an apartment behind the old Emeritus Church on Arcadia Avenue." He explains.

You know the place, not well, but you've passed the old church yard a few times since moving to the city.

You nod, but something stops you halfway through the motion.

"Can we go back to my place instead?" You ask.

"If you're inviting me." He replies.

There is a look on his face like he's happy you haven't outright rejected him.

"I am." You say.

You feel kind of bad that he seems so eager, like a puppy or child. Maybe he gets rejected a lot.

"We can go wherever you want." He says, slipping down from his own barstool.

"You should be comfortable and feel safe, Beautiful." He continues.

"Remember- I've already told you, I don't intend to harm you."

His hand cups your cheek for a brief moment.

"I live two blocks north of here." You say, leaning into the touch but he's already pulling away.

"I'd feel better going there." You add.

You absolutely feel better going somewhere familiar to you.

He smiles and offers you his hand. After a moment of hesitation, you take it and together you head to exit the bar. You leave your cheap plastic fangs on the bartop with your empty glass. As you cross to the door, you notice that you two are the last non-staff to leave.

The chill in the air of late October night feels pleasant when you first step outside. It was rather warm back inside the bar after all. By the time you reach the second street you have to cross, waiting at the light you begin to feel a little cold.

You lean into him, but feel no body heat to share. What you do feel is his arm shifting around your shoulders and his cape coming to cover you, blocking some of the breeze. You are thankful but don't say it. You don't speak a word to Copia as you stand there, looking up at the red light and waiting for it to change. You hadn't said anything to him since agreeing to leave with him. It's nerves but you find that you feel less nervous when you look at him. Yes, he is a vampire, so he claims, but he looks anything but threatening. You think then, beyond just attraction, that you might actually like him.

As you approach the building in which you live, a rather large rat comes crawling out from behind a row of garbage cans. You let go of Copia's hand and jump back, frightened and disgusted by such a creature.

"Oh that's nasty." You say before thinking that shouting at it will make it go away.

You start shouting, trying to scare it back into hiding.

"Hey." Copia says to you, lifting his hand as if to silence your calls of distress and disgust.

You quiet yourself and step back.

"Hello little one." He says, crouching down and extending his hand towards the wild animal.

"What are you doing?" You ask, looking at him with eyes wide.

You take another step back.

The rodent turns towards Copia's voice and to your complete shock, walks over to him and climbs right into his hand.

"I think they are sweet animals." Copia says, using his other hand to pet over the rat's back and scratch between it's ears.

You watch and listen as Copia talks to the rodent. He holds it close to his face and the thing begins to calm and relax in his palm.

You can’t shake the fear that it will meet its untimely end at Copia's hand. It surprises you that he pulls a small soup cracker from his pocket and passes it to the rat.

"A vampire thing?" You question, keeping your distance; it may be occupied with Copia's attention but you still don’t like it so close to you.

"A personal choice." He says, giving the rat a final pet before sending it on its way.

Slowly, he gets back into an upright stance.

"You let it go?" You ask, keeping your distance but meeting his gaze.

"Of course." Copia says.

"What did you think I was going to do with it?" He asks and looks at you with deep confusion lining his face.

"Kill it." You reply before you can stop yourself.

"I thought you might kill it." You mutter and aren't happy with yourself; not for thinking it nor for saying it aloud.

His face falls and you decide then that you prefer his smile to his frown.

"I didn't mean that." You whisper, thinking you've gone and either offended or upset him.

"I suppose my interest in the creatures isn't something you see often, especially among the wild varieties." He admits with a sigh.

"I'd never hurt something so defenseless. I like to befriend them." He adds and his admission makes you feel soft inside.

"That's actually really cute." You say with a smile.

You point at the building, a few windows up.

"I live on the third floor, let's go inside." You say, stepping closer to him as you're once again feeling cold and want to get out of the breeze.

"Lead the way." He says and motions you in the direction of the door.

The elevator inside your building is not working so the two of you climb the three flights of stairs up. At the top you're puffing, red cheeked and slightly winded. Copia seems unphased. You take his hand in yours and lead him down the hall to the last apartment.

You pause, hesitation slowing you down. You don't even grab your keys from your pocket before you drop his hand and lean with your back against the door. You fix your eyes on Copia's face.

"Why me?" You ask as your internal thoughts start bubbling up from inside.

"Eh?" Copia says, looking at you, requesting a clearer meaning.

"Why are you here Copia?" You ask.

"Why pick me and follow me home?"

You think it makes you sound paranoid. Maybe you are.

"Because you asked me to be." He replies and you notice he looks nervous.

_ Why is he nervous? _

"And of all the people in the bar, why did you come to me?" You ask and the way you are speaking isn't something that you're exactly proud of.

The pent up emotions: wonder, fear and concern for your well-being all come to the surface.

You look at Copia and see he is chewing his bottom lip. You can imagine, by the look in his eyes, that he'd be blushing if he could. For the first time that night he looks really vulnerable and it makes you feel that flutter in your belly. It makes you regret the tone which you use with him.

"Because I think you are beautiful." He says and it sounds so raw and genuine.

You stare at him but say nothing. It's the whole shocked feeling shutting down the brain again.

"If you want me to go, you won't ever need to see me again." He adds and it sounds as if he means it.

"I don't want you to go." You whisper, reaching out.

You put your hand on his chest. You know for sure he was not lying about what he was the moment you feel no heartbeat under your fingers.

"Come inside." You say, dropping your hand from his chest and reaching into your front pocket for the key.

You lead Copia into your apartment and reach to turn on the light. You make it just beyond the front door before you turn back to him.

"You really wish me no harm?" You question, just having to be sure one last time.

"Never." He says and it's all you need to hear.

"Please, make yourself comfortable. The sofa is over there." You say, leading him by the hand to the open plan living room.

"You live here alone?" He asks, probably impressed with the spacious apartment.

It was a rather large apartment, especially in this part of town.

"Yes." You say.

"Well, I have a few fish but my roommates left about six months ago." You explain.

You look around and you aren’t sure why. It's your home, you know what's there.

"I'll be right back." You say and instantly leave him alone so you can use the bathroom.

Once you are closed inside the small room you take the time to think about what is going on.

You gaze into the mirror at your reflection and in the harsh glare from the light overhead, you see just how sloppy your makeup has become over the course of the night. You decide that you want to wash it away. You spend a few minutes cleaning your face and once more overthinking the situation.

You ditch the satin top, leaving you in a beige form fitted tank top.

When you return to your living room, you find Copia sitting on the sofa. He looks pretty comfortable. He doesn't immediately see that you've come back.

"Hey." You whisper, as not to startle him.

"Hello." He says as he turns his head to look up at you.

The word is soft, a bit drawn out. You want to laugh for some reason but suspecting Copia is sensitive, you don't want him to think the laugh was at him.

"Are you cold?" You ask.

"I can take your cape and hang it behind the door if you'd like." You offer.

"I am not cold." He replies.

His hands move to the clasp to unfasten the cape. He slides it off his shoulders and rolls it before passing it to you. He smiles and whispers a thanks.

You walk it to the door, hanging it over the rack on the back. You double check that the lock is bolted before you return to the living room.

You stand in a way that puts you close to him but you don't sit down right away. The coffee table is level with your knees but something holds you back from getting much closer.

"Did you want to sit?" He asks, patting the empty cushion beside him.

The sugar sweet tone returned to his voice.

"I will." You say but don't do it yet.

"Can I get you anything?" You ask.

"You know, before I get too comfortable." You add with a laugh.

"I require nothing, thank you." He says and once again, pats the seat beside him.

"Like ever? Or just now?" You ask, starting to bring your curiosities out into the light.

You have a vampire in your home. There are questions that you want answers to.

"I am fine for the moment." He says.

"I will let you know if there is anything I might need. Your company is enough for now."

The smile on his lips is sweet and maybe a little sexy.

Okay, it's incredibly sexy.

"Good." You whisper and finally take a step closer, around the table.

You aren’t worrying about keeping a distance between the two of you anymore. You are close enough to touch him, but do not yet sit down at his side. 

"Can I ask you about this?" You ask, reaching to run your fingers across the embroidered symbol on his jacket, beside the lapel.

"I told you that you may ask me anything." He says in reply.

He is sitting there with his back straight and his hands folded against his lap.

"You did." You say.

"Though most guys I've met will say anything to get my attention and not follow through on it." You further explain and laugh quietly.

He smiles and you find yourself looking into his eyes. They truly are strange and in the more adequate lighting of your home, you think them beautiful. The way he is looking at you lets you know that he still sees the beauty of you without the makeup. It warms your heart. The slight up turn of his lips warms the rest of you.

If anything, you've fallen for that smile.

"It is an emblem that represents the church that I belong to." He says, about the inverted cross.

"And I sense that your next few questions may be answered by me saying this: Yes, I belong to a church. No, being what I am does not affect my being there. The Emeritus Church is a community of Satanists and I hold rank there as cardinal. They know what I am and I am accepted for it." He says.

“I am accepted but I can assure you, not all our members are like me. I am the odd one out.” His smile falters before he adds,

"Odd one out, maybe in more ways than one."

"You sound like you're sad." You say.

It's true but you wonder if maybe you shouldn't have said so.

"I am not sad." He replies.

"Sometimes I feel like I don't always fit in."

You feel a sadness for him, in that moment.

"But there are plenty there that do like me, so please, do not pity me."

You listen intently but feel overwhelmed by the sound of his voice. It’s simultaneously soothing and arousing and you can’t quite figure out just what your emotions want to do in the moment.

"So, a Satanic vampire?" You whisper; it's all you can manage.

The very idea of it has a wave of ideas crashing around inside your brain, good ideas. Pleasing ideas.

"Yes." He says.

"A Satanic vampire with a high ranked position in my church." He adds and you can hear the pride in how he says it.

"A position you value?" You inquire.

"Absolutely." He replies.

“It was a lot of work getting there.” He adds.

"Are all vampires Satanists?" You ask, might as well ask while you can.

"Not all, no." He answers.

You feel his touch at your hand. He is still wearing his gloves. You find yourself turning your hand in his, pressing your bare palm to his leather clad one and as you both close your fingers around, you hold on. It's oddly comforting and satisfying to hold his hand.

"Being a part of a church, a clergyman, can you become involved with people?" You question, stepping closer.

You're standing between his legs at this point.

"I'm here, aren't I?" He answers yours with his own question.

In a moment, too quick to notice, he is standing again. You realize he is very close to you. You don't mind one bit.

"Is that your intention then, to involve yourself with me?" You say, leaning into him.

"Maybe. That all depends on you." He says and also leans into you.

"How involved?" You whisper, looking right into his eyes.

“Are you looking just for a friend?” You ask. 

"I have few friends. But I'm never one to turn down an opportunity to make more." He answers and you feel his fingers stroking over the underside of your wrist just as he’d done in the bar.

"Are you maybe, I don't know, looking to just hook up then?" You ask next.

You're nervous but you lean as close as possible to him, looking into his eyes.

_ Just kiss him. _ You think.

You don't.

"Again, that all depends on you, my Beautiful one." He whispers.

The pet name has your mind reeling. It was not the first time he called you beautiful that night, but his use of the word paired with the possessive has you ready to give yourself over to him. You’ve fallen.

You close your eyes, tilting your head up, just enough to let your lips brush over his. The simple kiss is enough to reignite the feelings you had the moment you laid eyes on him at the bar. You feel your body warm and your belly wobble.

"Was that okay?" You ask as you lean back.

You feel slightly foolish that you just kissed him without asking first.

His reply comes with him pulling you close and a return kiss, one just as soft but doubly sweet.

Copia was not the first man you've taken home with you but he was the first person that made you feel the way you did. Pushing your mouth more firmly to his, you deepen the kiss and you let yourself fall against him, becoming wrapped up in his arms.

Breaking the kiss, you push against his chest. You hold yourself up and look into his face. For the first time that night, you notice a flush of color in his cheeks.

The desire to keep kissing is strong but your curious nature has you asking more questions. You do not know at this point in time if after tonight you will ever see him again. It wasn’t every day you had a vampire in your presence and you took the opportunity to learn what you could.

"Can you go out in the daylight?" You ask, shifting your body so you can feel his pressing fully against yours.

"I don't make a habit of it." He answers, relaxing against you and wrapping his arms around your back again, allowing you to be more comfortable against him.

"But you can?" You’re curious.

"If I need to, yes." He says.

"But I prefer the night."

"So do I." You say with a small smile.

"Though maybe for different reasons."

He smiles back.

"Different or the same, we agree that the night is more beautiful." He whispers.

"May I kiss you again?" He asks, already leaning in.

You don’t say anything, just press your lips against his, and you kiss him long and slow. You begin to feel a sort of warmth begin to radiate from him. It feels nice. You pull back just a hint, and give a tentative bite to his lower lip. He moans into your mouth and the sound is one of appreciation. You step further back, but keep your hand pressed against his chest. The material feels luxurious under your fingertips.

"Will a stake to the heart kill you?" You ask next.

You don’t know why that was your next question but it was.

"Do you plan on killing me?" He says and there is a teasing note to his tone of voice.

He leans into you and you feel his lips moving along your cheek towards your ear. There is still no breath on his lips, but they are soft and warm.

"I don’t plan on it, no." You say, turning your head to catch his lips in another kiss.

"A stake to the heart will kill anyone if it lands right." He whispers.

His lips move along yours as he speaks. His words are spaced with soft brushes and gentle pecks.

"I’d rather not find out how one might affect me." He sighs, running his hand up the back of your neck until his fingers rake through your hair.

He keeps the other resting at the small of your back.

The conversation dies, as you spend the next few minutes becoming well acquainted with the inside of his mouth. You like the way he kisses; it’s maybe not the most perfect but you sense that he is paying attention, adjusting his methods based on the sounds you make.

You allow yourself to relax, letting him take the lead. You trust he knows what you’ll like. You can’t help but whimper and moan, and maybe now you start to think he can kiss perfectly.

There is a growing heat in your belly and it spreads up your spine and settles down in your groin. You are feeling very warm again and wonder if it’s too soon to request going to your bed.

Before you know it, Copia is the only thing on your mind. You’re thinking of nothing beyond the embrace and the feel of his lips moving with yours. Your head spins with pleasure and you feel a slow throbbing sensation between your legs. You want more than his kisses. Your knees wobble like jelly and you want to lay down.

You pull back to break the kiss, breathing heavy. You decide that taking a few moments to catch your breath will help to calm your eagerness. He seems interested in you, but you don’t yet know how eager he is to speed things along. You didn’t think he was minding how quickly you were giving in to desire.

All the stereotypes you know about vampires are coming to mind. You want to ask but also you don’t want to offend. There are the trivial curiosites of course, but also you needed to know the truth to some of these things. Actual vampires in this world was a new concept. You had believed they didn't exist outside fantasy just an hour before.

"Do your kind really not have reflections in a mirror?" You ask, reaching up to touch his hair.

It’s softer than it looks. You spend a moment running your fingers through the strands.

"Would I look this good if I couldn't check myself?" He asks with a smile.

He seems to like having his hair touched, and his eyes flutter.

"Modest, I see." You tease, tracing his throat with a thumb.

"I've come a long way to build this confidence." He whispers, moving his hands to sit at your waist.

“Modest is not a word I use often.”

You can feel the cool brush of leather as his fingers slip beneath the hem of your tank top.

"How old are you?" You shudder as he squeezes your hips.

"That's rude." He laughs and his comment lacks an offended tone.

You like his laughter quite a bit. You laugh quietly and lean back, locking your eyes on his.

"I want to know." You touch along his chin and it makes him shiver.

"Tell me." You then press your palms flat against his chest.

"Two hundred and thirty four." His hands start to move up and down your torso, feeling you up through your clothes.

"Is that old?" You ask, liking his wandering hands very much.

"For you, maybe." He says, using a firmer touch and becoming much bolder with the areas he reaches.

"For my kind, not at all." He sighs and you feel his hands stutter, as he is likely thinking where he should touch you next.

"Will garlic kill you?" You ask and take hold of a wrist.

You guide his hand up the front of your shirt.

"I'm Italian; I'd die without it." He laughs.

He tickles up your belly. He stops, presses his gloved hand over your racing heart and he thrums his fingers to the beat.

"So you do eat food?" Your arms wrap loosely around the back of his neck.

"When I want to." He says, thumbing a delicate circle around your nipple.

He doesn’t slip his touch beneath your bra. It doesn't mean it feels any less stimulating. His teasing sends a pulse straight to your lady bits.

Your breath catches and your eyes flutter closed.

"More." You say and whimper as he does it again, sending another pulse through you.

"And blood? Do you-" You whisper, opening your eyes and looking into his.

"I need blood to survive, yes." He replies before you can finish.

You lean in, kissing him again. He's quick to slide his tongue along your bottom lip. You let your mouth open and feel the swirl of his tongue against yours.

You push his arms down, feeling as his hands drop from your body. You let your kisses linger a moment longer before stepping back. You look into his eyes and you see the same kind of lust that you are feeling inside yourself.

"Have you killed anyone?" You ask.

"Not intentionally." He whispers, looking at you with a serious expression.

You shiver in response to a chill moving along your spine.

"I wish to avoid doing that ever again." He adds and still looks serious when he says it.

"Swear to me, that you do not intend to kill me tonight." You say and really at that point you know it’s probably too late.

You're so taken by him you'd let him get away with anything.

He kisses you, short and sweet.

"I swear to you." He whispers against your lips.

"You have my word, Beautiful one." He says, rubbing his thumb in a circle at your hip.

You feel a shudder rock your body. There is something in the way he calls you that that just  _ does _ something to you.

"Would you ever bite me?" You ask.

"No." He says.

"What if I want you to?" You press.

"No." He says again and his answer is firm.

"And if I ask for pleasure, will you provide?" You say, biting your lip.

"All night." He says and the look in his eyes darkens.

"Will you let me take you to bed now?" You ask, looking at him with fuck-me eyes.

"Yes." He says.

His voice catches, a sure tell of his aroused state. You are thrilled with his answer, the word and how he said it.

You step back from him, taking his hands in your own. You give him a tug, sturdy enough to pull him close. He stumbles a bit but levels out and the look in his eyes lets you know he wants this as much as you.

"Let's go." You whisper, voice cracking in anticipation.

You lead him away from the sofa.

It's not far from the living room to the bedroom and you pull him inside. You don't bother with the lights. There is a bright glow from the fish tank in the corner.

You are filled with a burst of energy, knowing just what you want to play out. You drop his hands and sit down on the edge of your bed.

Copia stands back, looking at you. His white eye looks eerie in the blue light coming from the tank. The same light shows off the pale translucency of his skin. The blue highlights the veins under his skin. You are intrigued with him not being human. You can not deny that he looks good and that you're going to enjoy this.

It's obvious to you that his gaze is on your chest, and not your neck this time. Your tank top leaves nothing covered, the swell of your breasts is helped out by the push-up bra.

"Come into bed with me." You say, lifting your hand and beckoning him closer with the curl of a finger.

Copia is on you in a blink of an eye. His legs are straddled over your lap, knees pressing into the mattress. You fall back, as he begins kissing you with such an intense drive. You are desperate to keep up, running your hands up and down his back as he is sucking your tongue into his mouth and pulling quiet moans from deep inside you. His hands are up, twisting through your hair, holding your face to his. He kisses you deeply and for a long time. It is you that needs a breath and you find yourself pushing against his chest.

"I am sorry." He says, sitting back.

"I sometimes forget about the human need to breathe." He looks slightly embarrassed by his eager approach.

"Were you born a vampire?" You ask, eyes fluttering as he sits back, pushing his hips into yours.

You feel he is already hard beneath the tight pants.

"Turned." He says, touching you in ways that shouldn't feel so good but they do.

A delicate circle at your chin with his thumb and a gentle pet over your chest, above the line of your shirt.

"Long ago."

You hum, kissing his fingers as he brushes against your lips.

"My kind cannot be born, my Beautiful one. We die human and are reborn after death." He says.

"Right." You whisper, nodding your head.

"You are okay with this?" He asks and he looks like he is anxious about what you might say.

"Hooking up?" You ask.

You absolutely are.

"Okay with what I am?" He says, tracing your jaw with his fingers.

"Yes, it’s okay." You whisper, petting over his chest.

"Maybe more okay than it should be." You laugh.

"You would tell me if it’s not okay, yes?" He asks.

"I will never make you do things you don't want."

"Yes, of course, I just needed a moment, to breathe." You laugh, never having to be the only one who needs to breathe in these situations.

Already, having a few deep breaths, you are ready for more.

"You ready?" Copia says, looking at your lips.

You drop one hand from his chest and move it behind you. It gives you the leverage you need to push yourself up into a half-seated position. Your other arm moves to sit behind his neck and you pull him closer to you, kissing his lips softly. It is different, yet no less pleasing, than the heavier kisses you’d shared moments before.

You shift your arm, letting your body fall back against the bed and you pull him back down on top of you. The pair of you kiss, light pecks mixed with deeper ones. Your legs entwine and you sort of roll around, feeling one another with hands and whole bodies. It's playful but deeply arousing too, and you know he's enjoying it as much as you are.

After a time, you both wind up in your starting position, with you on your back and Copia laying over you.

Breathless again, you look up at him. You sigh, pulling him to you for another round of kisses. Your smile causes the kiss to falter but soon you gain control of yourself.

He deepens the kiss but is showing a bit more restraint in his level of intensity. His hands settle on your sides and he is squeezing you at the hips. His lips stray from yours and he begins to kiss down the side of your neck.

Copia is enthusiastic to say the very least, but he seems to base his actions on making you happy and not just seeking his own pleasure. It is a different approach than some of the other men you have taken to your bed but you are resigned to push that all aside. Your mind is focused solely on him and no one else.

A soft whimper slips past your lips as you feel his hands moving up your sides, beneath the material of your shirt, tickling your bare skin. The cool press of the leather is pleasing against your heated body. The kisses and the touches push you into a deeper state of arousal and you feel the fluttering in your belly again. You feel flustered and you moan at the tingling between your legs. You want more. You need more.

"Take it off me." You say.

You arch your neck as he starts to suck over your pulse point. He is very careful to only use his lips and tongue to kiss and suck the skin along your neck.

"Sit up, Beautiful." Copia said, and his voice is thick with arousal.

He leans back and helps you to sit.

In a flash, he pulls your undershirt up and over your head, tossing it aside and it falls to the floor behind him. He is staring at you, your chest his main focus. He lets his eyes meet yours for a moment, a questioning glance. You nod once and his lips crack into another smile. You love his smile. You reach up and remove your choker style necklace, dropping it down to the floor with your shirt.

Copia leans in, he doesn’t push you back down, just leans close and starts to pepper your chest with little kisses and small licks. His lips drag along the edge of your bra and your mind becomes awash with good feelings.

You feel one of his hands come up and cup your left breast in his hand. It seems to fit perfectly and you can’t stop the moan that bubbles up as he thumbs your nipple through the material. As he brushes and teases, you find yourself rolling your hips, starting a slow grind against him. His hard cock is tenting his tightly fitted pants and you can’t help but think that it feels so good to have him against you like that. You let him know just how much you're appreciating this by moaning out.

One hand moves back to his hair, threading your fingers through it and messing with the slicked back style. You reach back with your other arm, reaching for the clasp on your bra. You unclip it and the article loosens, laying lax against your body. You barely notice that Copia pulls it off, dropping it down to the floor with your shirt.

"Can I-" He starts.

"Yes." You whisper quickly, before he can finish.

You have decided that you will let him do anything.

"Oh." You gasp, feeling him at your right breast.

His mouth is warm and wet, feels nice as he begins to tongue at your nipple. His gloved fingers still toy with the left, pinching and pulling the hardened nub. Your pleasure is increasing and you feel the warm heat between your legs spread.

You feel the gentle scrape of his teeth against you but are very aware he isn’t looking to bite. You kind of wish he would but are too afraid to ask again.

Copia remains enthusiastic about what he’s doing and that in turn makes you all the more eager to keep things going. He changes his focus, flicking your left nipple with his tongue. He sucks at it and you feel his hand at the right as you arch your body and groan in deep pleasure.

"More." You cry, hips working in small circles, grinding against him again and again.

"Hmm?" He hums, pulling his mouth from your breast just enough to roll his eyes up toward your face.

"Copia, please." You whisper.

It is not expected, what he does next. Copia slides off the bed and gets down on his knees, between your legs. You immediately miss the closeness of his body to yours but you quickly catch on to what it is he is doing. One by one, he unfastens the buckles on your boots, sliding down the zipper at the backs before pulling each off your foot.

Copia rises to his feet and you find yourself looking at him. His pale skin is now rosy red, more than hinting that he is warmed and excited by all that is going on. You understand completely, feeling very much aroused and excited yourself. You keep your attention on him and he starts to undress himself.

The jacket comes off first, dropped to the floor. Had it not been for the intensity of the situation, you might feel some sense of wonder how he would drop such finely made clothes to the floor as if it meant nothing. But the thought is not there, because you’re just focused on the idea of seeing him naked.

You reach down, working the button of your own pants open. You struggle with the zipper and by the time it's undone, Copia is naked from the waist up.

You like what you see. Just like the skin of his face and neck, his body is pale with some hints of flushing. He looks fit but with a slight tummy. His chest is dusted with hair but it isn’t much. You can see a line of course hair that starts below his navel and disappears behind the edge of his pants.

"God, you’re hot." You say, unable to stop yourself.

It’s a true statement, but you feel a hint shy and silly in saying it aloud.

He flashes you a smile and it shows his amusement with your words. The glint in his eyes lets you know that he knows it. It comes across as confident and not cocky. You push yourself back into a semi-seated position and enjoy the process of him undressing.

"You have a hotness about you as well, my Beautiful hottie." He says with a wink.

You enjoy hearing it from him; it sounds just as silly as what you had said.

Copia kicks off his shoes and tucks them under your bed beside the growing pile of your mixed clothes. He makes fast work of removing his pants and you get your first look of just how well endowed Copia is. He isn’t wearing anything under his pants and you kind of had that impression the moment you first saw him in the bar. His tight pants truly hid nothing about him. What you imagined was what you got. Naked, save his gloves, he steps closer to the edge of the bed, standing right between your legs.

"Oh fuck." You sigh, so turned on by the sight of him.

His cock is hard and it is flushed a deep red color. His tip is leaking heavily. It is quite thick and of average length. You can tell he makes an effort to keep his pubic hairs neatly trimmed.

"Like what you see?" He asks, leaning his knees against the edge of the mattress.

Again, he seems confident, not cocky.

"Mhm, I do." You whisper.

"Lay back." He says, voice soft but commanding.

You do as he says, laying back against the bed. You keep your head off the mattress, neck bent so you can still see him. You just can’t take your eyes off him.

Once again, Copia lowers himself down to the floor, resting on his knees. He sets his gloved hands over the middle of your thighs. The squeak of his gloves against the patent leather makes you giggle quietly. The giggle fades into a low moan as he presses one hand to the apex of your legs, pressing against your sex through the layers of clothes. His lips press to one thigh, kissing you through the pants. He repeats the kiss on the other side. He rubs you for a moment longer, just enough to hear you whimper in need. He doesn’t tease you for long, quick to pull his hand away after getting you to cry out for him. Before you know it, he is peeling your tight pants down over your hips, leaving you in a pair of panties. They are soaked, as you're incredibly worked up, more than you ever recall being.

"So wet for me, my Beautiful one." He whispers, once again cupping and pressing his hand against you.

"This is for me, yes?" He asks, rubbing you through the damp material.

Your eyes clamp shut as you shudder.

"Yes." You whine.

This is all for him. He does things to you that you just can’t put into words. He is not the first man to arouse you, but really this is the most intense arousal you can remember in a very long time.

Copia works his hand over you, rubbing you through the panties. It feels good, really good and you arch your hips up, pressing yourself into his hand. The movement of your hips and his hand synch up, finding a pleasurable rhythm that has you panting quietly.

The warmth of your arousal increases and you can no longer hold yourself up. You flop back against the bed and try to decide if you want this to continue as it is or if you want to beg for his cock. You’re teetering on the line of desperation. You feel the bed sink under his weight as he climbs back in with you. He doesn’t pull his hand from between your legs.

"Copia." You say, opening your eyes to see him lying over you.

His one hand continues to rub and press at your sex, doing little more than teasing you at this point. His other arm is set beside your head, holding himself up to allow him to look down into your eyes.

You have one hand twisted in the blankets, holding on as you continue to rock your hips into his teasing touch. Your other hand lifts up to snake around the back of his neck. You pull him closer, breathing heavily against his lips before kissing him. Your approach is greedy, wanting to taste him as you kiss hard and deep.

"What do you say we take these off?" He whispers once the kiss is broken.

He tugs at the soaked panties and you feel his leather clad fingers brush against your outer lips. It feels nice but you want to feel him skin to skin.

"Yes." You gasp.

"Gloves too." You add, shifting around to make it easier for him to slip away the last piece of clothing between you.

You move your body along with him, as he tugs away the panties and flings them aside. You shift until you are more centered on the bed and settle down with your legs parted in an inviting fashion.

Copia brings his hands, one at a time, to his face. You watch as he licks, with tiny flicks of his tongue, your dampness left behind on the leather. It's intensely erotic and you groan obscenely. Copia shifts his eyes to you and that smile of his returns, devilishly wicked once again. Keeping his two-toned eyes on yours, he bites one fingertip at a time and works the gloves off his hand. One, then two, drop to the floor.

"Touch me again." You say in a rush, wanting to feel his fingers before you ask him to fuck you.

He settles his body between your legs, resting against his knees, leaning over you. You feel the curling of his fingers against your face. He uses his one hand to cup your cheek before he leans down to kiss you again. His body has warmed significantly but the touch of his hand remains relatively cool. Your tongue twists and swirls with his. You can taste yourself on his lips. It makes you shiver with delight. The two of you kiss in a sloppy manner. It’s perfect though. You really enjoy the feel of his kiss.

You gasp into his mouth, feeling the cool touch of his other hand as it comes to rest between your legs. As he had done before, he cups his palm over your sex and presses into you gently. The heel of his hand presses firmly to your mound, his fingers barely graze your outer lips. You blush as a low groan creeps up your throat. Your hips jerk at the feel of him, wordlessly asking him for more.

"Does my Beautiful one want more?" He asks, and his tone is teasing.

His mouth moves from your lips to your ear, gently nibbling your lobe, before he latches onto your neck, careful not to bite as he sucks at your pulse point again.

"More." You sigh, nodding as you're unable to get anything else out.

Copia starts slow, petting over you with his three middle fingers. He moves them together, creating a steady rhythm. He presses against you and it’s enough to make you moan out, turning your body and squeezing your legs together, trapping his hand.

"Feels nice, yes?" He asks you.

You make a strangely endearing whimper sound, and crave his lips on yours again. The kisses to your neck feel wonderful but it isn’t enough for you in the moment.

"Kiss me." You say, voice shaking.

You reach for his hair, grab a fistful and drag his face up to yours. You kiss him hard. He is quick to please, kissing you with such desire and passion. His free hand fists in your hair and he holds your mouth to his.

You take turns, swapping the lead. As you relent control one final time, his other hand shifts, using two fingers to part your lower lips. His middle finger grazes your clit and you gasp, shuddering. You feel his laughter more than you hear it.

"Again." You whisper, pulling out of the kiss to say it.

"Do what again?" He asks playfully.

"This?" He says and once more brushes against your clit.

"Yes!" You gasp, rolling your hips but he’s already pushing his hand downwards, away from the swollen bundle of nerves.

"Tease." You mutter, but truly you’re really liking his approach to this.

He works his fingers down between your legs, two and sometimes three. He strokes in and around your damp folds, avoiding further contact with your clit. It is infuriating but a lot of fun at the same time. It’s nice to be teased sometimes you think, especially when it's Copia that does the teasing. He lets his touch stray further down, reaching back to drag two of his fingers along your taint. It tickles and makes you shudder. You start making little whimpering sounds and your hips roll.

"You like this, hmm?" He asks, keeping up the teasing tickle over your taint.

Your belly flutters and you find yourself nodding.

"Sometimes you need to feel a nice tickled taint, yes?" He says, leaning over you in a way that he can kiss and lick along your chest.

It's so strange to think about but you agree.

"Yes." He says, answering his own question with an amused tone.

He takes a nipple between his teeth and bites down, shielding his fangs behind his lips.

"Feels nice." You admit with a drawn out sigh, and it really does.

It is a new sensation to you but it has already made its way into your mind. You will probably never think about sexy times without wishing to feel the pleasured tickles on your taint.

"Do you know what else feels nice?" He whispers, dragging his lips up from your chest and along the curve of your neck.

"Hmm?" You moan, as you can’t find it in yourself to form a word.

He answers you by sliding two of his fingers up and inside you. He curls them forwards, and rubs a tight circle over your g-spot. Never once in all your sexual endeavors has someone found it so quickly. You do not know if he knows due to plenty of experience or some form of vampire magic, but you don’t care. You feel your muscles clench and you think for a fleeting moment that you can cum over his hand.

"None of that, my Beautiful one." Copia says, quietly tutting and pulls his hand from you.

"Too soon for that, I think." He says, lifting his hand to his mouth.

You want to scream out but remain quiet, eyes fixed on the swipe of his tongue across his fingers, wet with your juices.

"You taste absolutely delicious." He says, once he licks his fingers clean.

His voice is husky, thick with arousal.

You are stunned into silence, not the first time he has left you in that state. You have a feeling that he’ll stun you into silence quite often and you like the idea very much.

"Copia." You whisper and his name is all you can manage.

"Hmm?" He says, pulling his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

You can't help but be captivated by the string of his saliva mixed with your juices that drips down his chin.

"I want your cock." You say and the sheer need in your voice is foreign to you.

You've never sounded so desperate.

You turn slightly, reaching towards him and closing your fingers around his thick shaft. His cock twitches and pulses in your hand. It’s hot and it’s hard. You crave the feeling of it inside you.

"You can have it, my Beautiful one." He says, eyes fluttering as you begin to stroke him in a slow and steady way.

"It's all yours." He sighs, head lolling back on his shoulders.

The two of you make no further change in positions yet. You slowly work your fist around his cock, using his plentiful pre-release as lube. Copia starts to moan and you are fully enamored with the sounds he makes.

His hand finds its way back between your legs and he is touching and petting over you with a matched pace of your strokes. He pleases and teases you externally for a time, before dipping his fingers back inside you. He gives them a wiggle, pumping them in and out. He starts with one, then two, before pressing three to your g-spot, once again rubbing with a perfect pressure. You tense and moan, shivering at his skilled minstraitions.

The room is loud, full of both your pleasured moans, like a secret musical that was made by and for the two of you alone. You spend some time playing this game, pleasuring one another, content with the great feelings you share.

On several occasions you believe that he’s going to make you cum, but every time you get close, each time you reach that crest, he stops. You catch on to his tells and do the same. You work him with your fist, up and down you stroke him. Each time it looks like he might cum, you stop, teasing him as he teases you.

"Let me feel you around my cock." Copia says, taking hold of you by the wrist.

He looks down into your eyes. His one hand slips away from his teasing of your sex. It throbs at the loss of contact.

"Let me slip inside you, Beautiful one." He says and it's nearly a purr.

His pupils are blown wide, he looks wrecked. You imagine that you look quite the same. His skin is flushed and sweaty, something that you hadn’t expected to happen since you learned just what he was, an undead creature of the night. You love the look on him anyway. You secretly hope that this night won’t be the last you see of him.

"Yes." You say, releasing your grasp of his cock.

"Fuck me." You say and it’s nothing more than a desperate whine.

Copia is fast to change how you two are positioned in the bed together. He shifts himself to lay on his back, pulling you over him. The strength he has, probably comes from the creature that he is. He doesn’t appear weak at all, but he's much stronger than he looks. Strong and fast.

You spread your legs, quick to straddle his middle. You feel his rock hard cock at your entrance but you hold back from sinking down. You can’t stop yourself from rubbing against him though, letting his beautifully thick cock glide against you. It feels so good, too good.

His little whimpers let you know he is enjoying it too. You feel it pulse beneath you and you grind against him, putting pressure on your clit.

"I have another question for you." You say, not stopping what you are doing but slowing down to an extremely slow pace.

It's torture, even for you.

"I told you, my Beautiful one, ask me anything your heart desires." He says, pressing his palm to your chest and feeling the wild thump of your heart.

"Can I see you again, after tonight?" You ask, stopping your movements completely.

He nods and moves his hand to the side, letting his pinky brush your nipple. It sends a jolt of energy through you, right up your spine.

"I want to." You say.

"Often, Copia." You admit and it’s the first time you ever say something like that to a man you’ve taken home with you.

"Good." He says, pushing himself up and pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss.

"Because I find myself enamored with you, my Beauty." He whispers.

"Tonight will never be enough."

You're enamored with him as well but can't bring yourself to say it. You think the look in your eyes and the state of your aroused body is telling enough. He knows, surely he knows.

You shift, reaching down between your bodies and you grasp his cock. He lets a low growl slip past his lips as you sink down over him. You tense and shudder, feeling so full. You close your eyes to really savor the moment.

You wait, letting your body become adjusted and accustomed to his thick cock inside you. Your hands press to his shoulders, holding yourself up. You give a slow roll of your hips and it is Copia that takes control. His hands grip your hips and his touch is firm. You don’t mind, it feels nice. He starts slow, gentle rolls of his hips up into you.

"Oh fuck yes." You say, opening your eyes and you find him looking at you.

His eyes are flooded with emotion. You believe that the emotions you see are mirrored in your own mind.

Desire.

Lust.

Need. 

Appreciation.

Desperation.

Lo-

_ No _ ! Just no- but oh how you want to think that this could be love but it's too soon.

_ Is it? _

You start a slow rocking of your hips, matching his pace. Within minutes, your fucking gets more intense, building in speed and intensity. His thrusts are hard and heavy, you keep up, falling headfirst into the sheer pleasure it brings.

He keeps one hand grasped firmly at your hip and his other moves up your body, squeezing a breast tightly. His palm rubs your nipple and it sends little shocks of pleasure that pair well with the heat growing and coiling at the base of your spine.

The time you two spent working one another to the edge over and over again has set you up for a climax that you know could blow your mind. He's mouthing along your neck and collarbones, making the most filthy noises as you bounce in his lap. Your head is thrown back and you're grabbing onto him as if life depends upon it. The sounds you're making match his in quantity but are higher pitched and drawn out.

"Fuck, Copia." You cry.

"Fuck me, yes."

Your toes curl.

He slams into you, hard and heavy. It is just what you need from him.

"Oh, yes, right like that." You whine, feeling as your legs start to tremble.

"Cum for me, my Beautiful one." Copia whispers and his tone is husky.

You think he sounds breathless, but that would be silly, as you know he isn’t capable of breathing.

"Cum with me." He urges.

"Yes." You say, tensing as a deep shudder wracks your body.

You're on edge. Any moment now.

You can feel his hand down between your bodies and you gasp as his thumb starts to work your clit.

It isn’t long before you feel the pulling sensation in your lower belly. It isn’t long before you feel your whole body tremble; your legs shake and your vision clouds. You're right there, and the tight coil of release snaps and you cum with his name on your lips.

Your clenching inner muscles are just what it takes to finish him, and Copia's hips stutter. His body goes rigid and he cums with a growl, spilling himself deep inside you.

Before you finish, a second and more intense orgasm crashes over you, nearly causing you to pass out.

A sharp pinch, then blinding pain pulls you back from the edge. You notice an ache in your shoulder. You're looking right at Copia and his lips are stained red.

He's bitten you.

You look down to assess the damages. It's not bad, a bit red and bleeding slightly.

You both stop moving; the thrusts and the rocking of your hips comes to a total standstill. You don’t part, as you're not yet ready to give up the feel of him inside you. You are feeling exquisite, never before having such satisfaction from any man.

Copia is looking at you, horrified by what he’s done. He looks ashamed. His eyes are welled with tears and he's shaking like a leaf.

"I'm so sorry." He cries, knowing that he betrayed your trust with that bite.

He reaches up, wiping his fingers across his lips. His eyes flutter, as his tongue glides along his lip. You wonder if he likes the taste. You think he does, positive about it.

"Bite me again." You say, pushing his other hand away from your breast.

You look at him and your expression is serious.

He slowly lifts his gaze to meet yours. His hand drops from his lips. His head shakes and he looks nervous, maybe scared.

"No. I can't." He whispers.

"I told you I wouldn't hurt you." Tears roll down his cheeks and they're tinted red.

"I'm not hurt." You say, speaking softly.

You can ignore the fact he took a nice big bite of your shoulder. It doesn't really hurt. The truth is, sometimes you like things like that, a little rough.

"I- liked it." You admit to him.

He swallows hard and you watch his throat contract before meeting his eyes. You are keenly aware that he's licking his lips, getting every last drop of blood he drew on impulse.

"Please, I want you to bite me again, Copia." You say, reaching to wipe away his tears.

He isn't responding.

Curious, you bring your fingers to your lips, wanting to know what the tears of a vampire might taste like. 

"Don’t." He warns; stops you from licking the little droplets by gently slapping your hand away from your mouth.

"Why?" You ask, but you think you know. 

"Just don’t." He says, and the serious expression returns to his face. 

"Will it turn me?" You ask.

The question slips out and you expect it to anger him.

"It could." He says, and there isn't anger in his words; there is sorrow and pain.

"And if that's what I want?" You question.

"You don't." He says.

"Believe me."

"I could be with you forever." You whisper.

"You don't want that either." He whispers, moving like he wants to get away.

You squeeze your legs, keeping him in place. He stays. You know his true strength so you believe if he wanted to go he would. You're glad he stays.

"You came to me tonight, Copia." You whisper, reaching out to hold his face.

You look at him and feel thankful that he's meeting your eyes.

"I feel a connection to you. I don't think our meeting was a coincidence." You say.

"Maybe not." He says and his eyes shift to the side.

"I trust you have been honest with me all night." You say, trying to turn his gaze back to you.

"Was there another reason you picked me from the bar?"

Slowly, Copia lifts his eyes and he's looking at you. He doesn’t look confident, the vulnerable look back on his stunning features.

"I wasn't lying to you about my choice." He says.

"I thought you were beautiful. I know you are beautiful. That is why I decided to talk to you."

"And you don’t feel this connection?" You ask, even as you're afraid of what he might say.

"I do." He whispers.

"But only after we started to talk. I didn't know beforehand what kind of person you were."

"Do you want to be with me then?" You question.

"Yes, very much." He says, turning his head to brush your fingers with his lips.

"But forever is a long time, my Beautiful one."

Your heart clenches, then flutters.

"Then maybe you should not have to spend it alone." You say, letting your hand fall from his cheek.

Copia is still for a long time, looking at you but saying nothing. You can almost work out his thought process, as his face changes expression a few times.

"You want that?" He asks and sounds so surprised.

"A lifetime with you?" You say.

"Yes, very much."

There is no delay in response this time. He grabs you, pulling your lips to his. He kisses you and the passion is there, stronger than earlier. You kiss back, sucking on his lips, his tongue. You whine, grinding down against him, hoping for more friction. He is very much still hard. You're keeping a slow pace but you aren't holding back. You part the kiss to take a breath. At the same time, you stop your rocking hips.

"I want you to bite me again." You say again and are looking into his eyes.

He's looking at you and you see he is shaking. You don't know if it is because he is aroused or because he is nervous.

"Please." You say, tilting your head to the side, baring your neck to him.

"You don't have to turn me tonight, but please, I want you to bite me."

"You are sure?" He asks, looking at you and his expression is completely serious.

There is a hunger in his eyes, different than you saw before. It chills you just as much as it thrills you. You think over his words but are quick with your reply.

"I am sure." You say.

Truth be told, this is a fantasy you’ve had for years, the idea of being bitten by a vampire. Though you realize that it was not a fantasy that you ever expected to play out in reality. You’ve toyed in the past with introducing a vampire to your bed by means of role play games. Never before had you thought that having a real one in your bed would have you pleading for a bite. You also never expected to feel so deeply for a man you met only hours previous.

You still don’t go back on your words. You decide that yes, this is what you want. He's still looking at you, caught between wanting to and wondering if he should or not. You touch him, thumbing his bottom lip.

"Feed from me, Copia." You whisper, touching your neck in the place you want him to bite you.

"I see that hunger you hold inside."

The look in his eyes changes and you don’t know what to make of it in the moment. You can feel his cock twitch and pulse inside you. His nostrils flare and his eye color shifts to a bright red color that seems to glow. It isn’t a mere reflection of the light. His fangs lengthen, come to a sharper point.

You are washed over with curiosity and desire, and you are aware of an absence of fear, like maybe you should be feeling. You maybe, don't realize your words have woken up something inside of him.

"Do you know what you’re asking of me?" He whispers and you feel his touch on your neck.

His cool fingers brush over the vein and it sends another shiver through your body. You are intrigued that his hands remain cool, even as his body warms.

"I know." You say, letting your hands fall to his shoulders.

You think you know.

"I trust you." You whisper.

You hold onto him and start up another steady grinding motion of your hips, rocking in his lap. Again his cock pulses inside you and you feel his lips at your neck.

He starts by kissing your skin, pressing his lips against you. You can feel that maybe he is nervous or hesitant and you wonder if maybe you made a mistake in asking him. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable just to feed your fantasy.

"I do trust you, Copia. Trust you not to hurt me." You whisper, as if that will ease his nerves.

"A bite in which I feed will hurt." He murmurs, kissing over the vein in your neck.

"I can’t lie to you about that." He starts licking at your skin.

You feel his lips tremble and you sense that he's trying to hold back. You don't think he can hold off much longer. He nuzzles your neck, mouthing along the tendon.

"Then I trust you not to kill me." You say instead.

He is lapping at the skin and he moans quietly as he begins to suck your neck, still he doesn't use his teeth. His hips thrust slowly, in time with your rocking. He moans again, louder. You moan in response to his moan.

"Copia." You whisper, a final plea.

A gasp tears from your lips. You feel pain, sharper than before. It's instantaneous. It's intense at first, but then you are consumed with a rushing sensation as you feel his fangs sink further into you. Your eyes clamp shut against the pain. You can feel your heart thumping. It's racing, more than it ever has before. It's beating so fast your chest aches, an ache deeper than the bite itself.

Your gasps become a whimpering. You want it to stop, but can’t bring yourself to speak. You try to push him away but you're impossibly weak. You cry out, it's loud and anguished. He wasn't kidding about the hurt.

Then suddenly, the pain fades. You are overcome with a sensation like you're flying high on some kind of drug. It's moments of sheer euphoria. You feel pleasant. You don't want it to stop anymore. You sigh, feeling a strange type of relaxed.

Copia is moaning, low and deep. It’s so obvious he enjoys what's going on. His body warms, more than it had while you fucked moments before. He remains buried inside you, rocking his hips, slowly. His cock twitches and throbs inside you. His hands cradle your head, keeping your neck exposed as he drinks from you. You are lax against him, leaning all your weight to his chest at the same time you feel weightless.

You cannot tell if it’s real or imagination, as you’re so overcome with a strange sense of altered reality, but you can swear you feel his heart beating as he’s holding you against him. You are aware of everything that is going on but you are aware as if you are feeling it all in a fog. You think, for a moment, that you might be slipping away. 

"Copia." You whimper and your voice is hoarse.

You are tired. You feel weak but wouldn’t trade this for the world, for with the exhaustion comes that euphoria like you’ve never known.

It's the cry of his name that makes him stop. He releases the bite and licks your skin, stopping the blood flow. He lifts his face from the crook of your neck. He makes a sound, it's kind of like he's distressed. It must be difficult for him to stop.

Your mind is swimming in confusion and your vision is blurred but you know the moment he pulls his cock out from your warm center. It was nice while it lasted. You feel too tired to miss it and you cannot protest. You cling to him, just long enough to feel when he helps you to lay down in the bed.

Delirious, you catch a glimpse of him through a foggy haze. His mouth and chin are scarlet with your blood; you watch as it drips down over his neck. You wonder just how much he drank to make that kind of mess. It makes you shiver.

Copia covers you with the blanket he pulls from the foot of your bed. Your elatedness and satisfaction remain. You feel wonderful. You feel happy. You close your eyes and you are hardly aware that Copia shifts to lay down at your side. You can still feel the warmth of his body and you think you can still hear the thumping of his heart. He pulls you into a protective embrace.

"You need to rest. I got carried away." He says.

You hear his voice as if he’s far but you know that you still rest in his arms. You're gazing at the ceiling, lost in your thoughts.

"You took too much?" You ask and it's kind of slurred.

He hums in acknowledgement and you sense he feels guilty about it.

You groan quietly, struck by a headache. It's bad, but you have felt worse.

"Look at me." He whispers and you think you sense a panic in his tone.

You don't look at him.

He whispers your name and it sends a flood of something like love to your heart. You don’t want anyone to say your name like that ever again, only Copia.

You roll your head on the pillow until you look at him.

"Hey you." You mutter, trying to sit back only to remember you're lying down, and you smile at him.

"My hottie." You giggle, still delirious.

You feel just how much you're grinning, the muscles in your face ache.

"Yes. Your hottie." Copia says with a laugh; in his voice there is relief.

You feel loopy but good. You imagine that you look silly, like a drunk person struggling to find their bearings. At least you figured out you're going to be okay.

"I am sorry." He whispers, petting along your jaw with his thumb.

He's crying again. 

"Shoosh." You say with a giggle, trying to shush his apology.

You give up after the third miss of trying to press your fingers to his bloody lips.

"You will be okay, but I think, eh shit, I fucked this up." He says to you.

"No, no I feel fine." You say, hoping to reassure him.

"Just have to sleep this off." You add, yawning through it.

"Yes, rest." He says, petting your cheeks.

"Can I tell you something?" You whisper, shifting a bit and rolling onto your side.

The simple roll makes you dizzy.

"Ooh that's not fun." You groan.

You are now facing him and you can’t help but reach out and touch him in some way. You decide that way is by moving your arm along his side, dangling your hand behind his back. The action makes him squirm and you know then that he is ticklish. You tuck that away for a later time.

"Tell me anything, Beautiful one.” He says, settling down and putting his own arm around you.

"Tell me everything."

You smile and it’s sleepy looking. You blink slowly and meet his eyes. The glowing red is starting to fade away from them. His fangs shorten and slightly dull. It’s strange, but you assume that if he isn’t using his vampire magic or whatever it may be, that caused them to change in the first place, they go away.

"I want to tell you that I really think I love you Copia." You say and you cannot stop yourself from yawning.

"I love you even if you talk to rats." You say, not sure why, of all the things to say, that was what came out.

You fully blamed being tired.

You hear Copia laugh and you feel him pull you closer to him. He wraps you in both of his arms, tucking his chin over the top of your head.

You snuggle, feeling comfortable and right in his arms.

"I think I really love you too." He says and you can feel the moment he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" You ask, knowing then that it would be pointless to fight the tired feeling that consumes you.

"I'd never leave you in this state." He replies and shifts around to get the rest of the blankets wrapped around you both.

"I'd like to be around until you feel sick of my company."

"Won't ever happen." You murmur against his neck.

"It might." He says but it's light enough it doesn't come across like he's too worried.

"No." You say and press an open mouth kiss to his chest.

"We can start our forever when I wake up. And since I know you eat, you're taking me to breakfast."

"Maybe lunch." Copia says with a laugh.

"Deal." You say and wrap your sexy vampire up in your arms.


End file.
